


Needs Must

by silvereye5



Series: Needs Must Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death-Ginny Weasley, M/M, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, but it happens off screen, very early on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25490311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvereye5/pseuds/silvereye5
Summary: After Ginny Potter dies suddenly, Severus Snape is among those called in to help Potter juggle his new reality.As the other helpers fade away, a desperate and penniless Severus agrees to become the regular caregiver to Potter's three young children.But Severus finds that the Potter household is not the sunshine and roses he'd imagined.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Series: Needs Must Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846531
Comments: 149
Kudos: 743





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This started because I really wanted to write Severus forced to take care of a baby. If that sounds like your jam, this fic might be for you.  
> I have the entire story drafted. I'll post updates as fast as I can get through edits!  
> This also has a sequel planned! Thanks for reading!

Severus opened his eyes to his dimly lit room.

Such a cliche, ordinary, dreary start.

Morning light crept between the gaps in his threadbare curtains, accentuating the brown, lumpy water stain that had been smudging the ceiling of his bedroom since Severus was a child. He closed his eyes again and contemplated the futility of life, the monotonous endless forward trudge of time.

He scrubbed at his face with both hands and rolled out of bed.

A quick stop off in the loo and then he was tromping down the creaky stairs of Spinner’s End to his kitchen. He fiddled with his old coffee maker until it was bubbling and brewing and filling the room with the bitter smell of morning, the beginnings of another bloody day.

He took a chipped bowl from the cabinet and filled it with very-slightly-off milk. He stirred a packet of oatmeal into it and popped it into his microwave. He sighed as he watched the device light up unnaturally and spin his food around and around.

After it beeped at him obnoxiously, he carried the bowl to the table and thunked it down in his spot. He opened the window to let the owl in with the paper and morning post. He went back to the counter to fill a mug with coffee. He grabbed a knife, a spoon, and a banana and brought them all to the table as well. He peeled the fruit and diced it up over his bowl, letting the white disks plop down into his oatmeal. He gave the owl a handful of coins (very nearly Severus’ last) and an owl pellet (his absolute last).

Finally, Severus settled down at his rickety kitchen table with a breathy sigh to start his day.

And, like numerous days that had come before, it began with being forced to stare at Harry Potter’s gob on the front page of the _Daily Prophet._

Today, the whole Potter family graced the front page as the paper announced that Ginevra Weasley had provided Potter with yet another child. A girl this time. And the couple’s trite method of naming their children had continued; another Lily Potter had been released upon the world.

 _Fantastic._

Severus watched the picture cycle through its motions. Potter, a small smile straining his face, had one arm around his beaming wife’s shoulders while the other held the hand of his younger son, Albus. Ginevra had hold of their older boy; James Potter, born again. The boy already thoroughly resembled his namesake. The photo was taken a few weeks ago, at a ubiquitous charity event for something or other, and Mrs Potter was still enormously pregnant. Severus met her two-dimensional eyes as she smoothed a hand over her rounded stomach over and over again.

Severus shuffled the paper closed and sipped his coffee.

He’d followed the absurd growth of the Potter brood in the papers along with the rest of the Wizarding World. He’d followed all of Potter’s achievements and failures in the papers, had done practically since the brat was born. The only way to get away from it would have been to cancel his paper subscription.

Tempting.

Very tempting.

However, he wasn’t ready to isolate himself completely just yet. Severus couldn’t brew as he used to, on account of the plea deal, and he had been restricted by the Ministry to a measly dozen spells a week, but he did not intend to spend the rest of his life as a Muggle. He lacked any proper education and would end up working himself to death in some menial job as his parents had.

Before it became too cold, Severus spooned a couple hearty bites of his breakfast into his mouth. Then, he reached for the only letter that had arrived that day. From Minerva, one of the few people he’d remained in contact with since the war.

_Severus,_

_Can you believe ten years have passed so quickly? With your plea deal restrictions coming to an end soon, I would like to_

_make you an offer._

Severus rolled his eyes.

_Horace means to retire this year, leaving us for good this time, and we would like to have you back at Hogwarts, Severus. Most sincerely._

_I am prepared to offer you—_

Severus scrunched up the parchment into a tight ball. He leaned back in his chair and used the burner on his stove to set it on fire before he placed it delicately into his breakfast bowl. The globs of leftover oatmeal smoldered and caught fire beneath it.

Severus would rather work as the orange monstrosity the Chudley Cannons called their mascot than return to teaching the sticky-faced, slack-jawed student body of Hogwarts.

He would need a job, however. Severus drummed his fingers rhythmically on the table as he watched the parchment burn and turn to ash. He twisted his lips to one side, then to the other. He stood and tugged his robes into place. He tipped the last of his coffee over the fiery mass to douse the blackening lumps.

He made his way down the stairs to his lab. Converting the basement had been his highest priority after his father died. It was small, but sufficient when well-stocked (which it wasn’t at the moment). It was currently covered in a powdery coating of dust.

Severus sat down at his desk and pulled two pieces of parchment, a quill, and a fresh bottle of black ink before him.

First, he penned a quick note telling Minerva exactly where she could stick her job offer.

Then, he titled the top of the next parchment:

_Curriculum Vitae of Severus Snape_

He ran the soft feathers of his quill back and forth across his lips.

He’d thought of and planned for this moment for ten years.

Well, for nine years. The first year after the war, he was in such shock about simply being alive that he’d spent most of it sleeping, staring vacantly at walls, or drunk. He’d spent through an abominable chunk of his savings before he realized, unless he wanted to cook hamburgers at some greasy Muggle restaurant, he’d need that money to get through the length of his sentence.

His plea deal (secured, regrettably, by Potter) had effectively neutered him for the past ten years. It kept him from Azkaban, but at what cost? What use was he if he could not brew, if he could not perform magic?

But that would soon be behind him.

Severus took a deep breath and spilled his professional accomplishments onto the parchment. He listed every award he’d won, every article he’d published, every potion he’d patented.

He held the finished project up to the light and his lips tightened.

He rolled it up, sealed it, and sent it off to St Mungo’s Potions Department on a wing and a prayer.

**********

The fireplace flared to life.

Severus, nestled in his wingback, his tea in one hand and a book in the other, merely flinched at the unexpected intrusion. Only so many people had access to his Floo, and, thankfully, even fewer chose to utilize that permission.

“Severus, may I come through?”

Mostly only Minerva, in fact.

“Of course.”

In a whirl of green flame and smoke, Minerva appeared in his sitting room at Spinner’s End.

Severus placed his cup on the side table and turned the page in his book. “If you are here to convince me to take you up on your, frankly, wholly unappealing offer—”

“No, Severus, I am not.” Minerva glanced around before taking a seat on his sofa. “Your lovely note successfully disabused me of the audacious notion. You have tea somewhere?”

Severus lifted on eyebrow, snapped his book shut, and rose to fetch the tea tray from the kitchen.

He returned to the sitting room with his tea set. One he’d bought at Marks & Spencer the first Christmas after his father died, pleased he could finally keep one in the house that wouldn’t end up smashed against a wall. He smiled every time he used it.

Minerva chose a cup and prepared her tea with the last of his honey and a bit of lemon. She blew across the steaming surface and sipped. She hummed her appreciation. Cradling the cup in both hands, she met Severus’ eyes over the rim. “Something horrendous has happened.”

Severus tilted his head and crossed his legs.

“Ginny Potter has died.”

“Oh.” The sound punched out of him. Quite…unexpected. Severus opened his mouth, closed it. He plucked up his tea cup and brought it to his mouth but didn’t drink. “How?”

“Brain aneurysm. While she slept.”

“That’s—”

“Yes.”

They both sipped their tea.

“Harry is a mess.”

“That is expected.”

“Of course. And with three small children…” Minerva shook her head, slowly, solemnly.

Severus nodded and took a long sip.

“The funeral is in two days. This Monday. You will be there.”

“I will?”

“Of course.”

“Of course.” Severus sipped his— oh, his cup was empty. His hand dropped to his lap, cradling the still warm porcelain against his thigh. “Of course.”

**********

The Ministry tracked and recorded all of Severus’ movements. Each time he left the dubious sanctity of Spinner’s End, something pinged deep within the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. His footsteps were traced to their final destination and the location added to his record. Each time he ventured to the local Aldi or to the dentist or to the duck pond down the street, it was inked onto parchment for posterity. It was easily the most intrusive aspect of his plea deal.

On May the 15th, in the year 2009, that same something pinged and scribbled out the word: Ottery St. Catchpole Cemetery. Severus Snape’s presence at the funeral of Ginevra Molly Potter would forever be a footnote in his file.

The funeral of Ginevra Molly Weasley.

The funeral of Harry Potter’s wife.

Harry Potter was a widow. What an odd thought. First, Severus had turned the boy into an orphan, now the universe saw fit to make him a widow as well. It was just as Severus always thought: life was viciously cruel and unfair.

That same something from before pinged again when Severus walked with the other mourners back to the Burrow for the reception. He knew Minerva would have words with him if he skipped it. Severus arrived, scooped up the nearest alcoholic beverage on offer (a tumbler of fire whisky), and found the darkest, most out-of-the-way corner the home had. He backed himself into that nook and faced the room before him.

Severus had not seen the majority of these people in many, many years.

The whole staff of Hogwarts, including Filch, Hagrid, and the new Transfiguration professor Minerva secretly despised, were here. The Order had shown up for their hero, most of whom had been side-eying Severus all morning. There were more redheads than should legally be allowed to gather in one space. Students galore. Aurors aplenty.

Severus shrunk further into his nook.

Harry Potter entered the room, dead-eyed and pale, as he’d been graveside at the burial. He hadn’t cried or wept or rent his clothes in anguish. His grief seemed low, simmering, veiled. Potter moved through the crowd of people, his oldest son perched on his hip. His hair was a tangled mess atop his head. He’d grown taller since Severus had last seen him in person, almost ten years ago now, but he was still just as scrawny. His black robes gave him a long, lean look; so different from the square, sturdy posture his Auror robes hinted at on its frequent forays onto the front page of the _Daily Prophet_.

People patted the man’s shoulder and murmured words to him with their heads bowed, their chins tucked to their chests. Severus tensed when he realized that Potter was meandering in his general direction. Severus would have to tuck his chin and offer his own empty platitude any moment now.

Potter reached him, his eyes didn’t lift any higher than Severus’ buttons. He nodded and said, “Snape. Thank you for coming, sir.”

“Potter.” He reached out a hand, let it hover for a moment over a slim shoulder, then dropped it down for a brief, awkward pat. Severus cleared his throat and said, “I am sorry for your loss.”

Potter’s eyes met Severus’, green as grass and bright, bright, bright. “Thank you, sir.”

“You don’t— Severus is…fine.”

“Okay.” Potter’s brow gathered. “Thank you, Severus.” One corner of his mouth tugged up. Then quickly dropped. “I really do appreciate you coming. I hadn’t expected you to. It’s nice though.”

The boy on Potter’s hip, James, added his own, “Thank you for coming.”

Severus arched a brow at the child and the child wrinkled his nose at Severus.

Potter pressed away a smile as he jiggled the boy. He nodded his farewell to Severus and moved on to receive his next condolence. James swiveled his head to stare at Severus over Potter’s shoulder. Watchful and curious, his eyes darted up and down, taking all of Severus in. Then, he hugged a spindly arm more tightly around Potter’s neck and turned back around.

Severus downed all of his drink. He wished for another one, but had no desire to venture forth from his corner. Minerva found him then, as she unerringly always did. Severus nodded, straightened his spine, and pulled away from the wall as she saddled up beside him.

She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. “So sad.”

“Yes,” Severus said, because what else would he say. It was sad. “Such an ignominious end to such a young life. To live through a war and then die in your bed. Egregious.”

“Tragic. Simply tragic. Look at those children.” Minerva tutted. “They will need their family now, more than ever.”

Across the room, Molly Weasley had the smallest child, the only girl, the _new_ Lily, tucked against her chest. Tiny, like a hearty loaf of bread, or a normal-sized cat. The other boy—the absolute clone of Harry Potter and Severus’ own namesake— sat on the sofa beside Hermione Granger. Colorful blocks clutched in each of his little hands.

Severus’ jaw clenched as he forced away a grimace. He rubbed the tightness away with one hand and replied, “Yes.”

**********

The Ministry official’s hands shook as they slipped Severus’ wand out from between his fingers.

Severus looped his arms together behind his back and drummed the pads of his fingers against a thumb. His toes curled within the confines of his best boots. He stood tall and stoic with his eyes narrowed as he watched the little man’s every twitch and flinch.

Ten years had passed. Slow as molasses, they had slogged on and on and on, but the time had finally come. His freedom was close at hand.

Perched on the front stoop of Spinner’s End, the little man passed Severus’ wand over to a willowy woman, another Ministry official. She ran her wand down the ebony length of Severus’. Bright blue light engulfed it and Severus could feel it. Heat bloomed and crackled through his bloodstream. A tingle sparked across his skin and made the little hairs there stand on end. 

The blue light sunk into the wood and extinguished, but the flame still burned in Severus’ veins. The woman handed the wand back to the man. He ran his own wand up and down its length before holding it out for Severus to take.

Severus swallowed and reached for it. His fingers aligned along the familiar grooves of the handle. He tightened his hold and the heat in his blood boiled over. Severus gasped as hollows within him filled and ballooned with energy and power. Magic, unfiltered, unhindered, returned to him, flowing through the dry riverbeds of his soul. He curled his fingers into tight fists as he fought to control the aching tenderness left in the fire’s wake. He closed his eyes, shifted his shoulders, and stretched his neck.

Severus inhaled through flared nostrils and opened his eyes to see the two officials watching him warily. Severus shifted his wand to a ready position. The smell of wood and the burning singe of new magic wafted around him.

The small man cleared his throat, unfurled a scroll, and read: “Severus Snape, per the plea deal negotiated between yourself and the Ministry of Magic on May 20th, 1999, you have completed your ten year sentence with behaviors and actions in accordance with the terms of your punishment. You are now formally released to use magic at will and to move freely among the community once again.”

Severus met the eyes of one official and then the other. He lifted a single brow. If these two timorous interlopers were once his students, they would catch the hint.

They did. They bowed and excused themselves, turning on the spot and disapparating. Poof.

Severus smiled and snapped the door shut. Alone at last. No tracking spells hanging heavily over him. No restrictions banding him, holding him back.

He licked his lips. Twirled his wand between his fingers.

He could go anywhere, do anything. He answered to one. He was accountable only to himself, and he would be from this moment on, always, he vowed, promised. His smile dropped and he held his wand up at eye level. Never again would he be beholden, restricted, held back, by anyone, for any reason.

He whipped his wand out and cast, “Scougify.”

With a creak and a groan, his foyer, such as it was, was dusted and mopped and smelled slightly less like moth balls and feet and more like something citrusy and clean. He tapped his wand against his lower lip, sending a shiver down his spine.

He moved to his sitting room and gave it the same treatment. Then the kitchen. After only an hour, he’d cleaned all of Spinner’s End. He moved out to his small garden to tend to the weeds and till the earth. He trimmed his hair and shaved his face. He mended his robes. Then, Severus sat down in his sitting room and stared at his wand cradled in his hand.

A pub. He could go to a pub. But then there would be people and noise. Dull. Plus, he lacked the funds do much more than sit at the bar and consume pretzels.

He could go to Diagon Alley. His lips twisted to one side and he groaned. He leaned back in his chair and looked around. Hollow. Unsatisfied.

Hogwarts. Hogwarts was a perfectly fine place to visit. As far as first untrackable, undocumented, ventures went. Before thinking about it much farther, Severus stood up and disapparated on the spot.

He landed at the front gates, nauseous and shaking, reminded that he’d not apparated in over ten years. Not since the Battle of Hogwarts, when Potter and company had left him to die in the wretched Shrieking Shack, and he’d had to save himself.

He resisted the urge do something as dramatic as bending over and putting his head between his knees. Instead, he straightened his spine and breathed in a lungful of fresh air.It smelled of earth and animal and the smoky heat of too much magic. Summer had a firm hold on Scotland, the sun high and shining bright. The Black Lake sparkled invitingly beneath it. The grass was green and the trees were full.

Severus dawdled, strolled, meandered, enjoyed his freedom and allowed his head to clear and his stomach to settle, as he crossed the grounds and made for the castle doors. He laced his fingers together at the small of his back, keeping himself open to every speck and molecule of this day. His first as an entirely free man.

He climbed the ever-changing stairs of Hogwarts to Minerva’s office. The gargoyle rumbled and winked as it slid aside the moment he stepped in front of it, as if Severus still belonged here and had retained every right to trespass.

Minerva, sat behind her behemoth of a desk, straightened and her mouth popped open in surprise. Dumbledore, large and twinkly in his frame behind her, spread his arms wide in greeting. Murmurs and mutterings echoed above and around him from all of the other dead Headmasters and mistresses.

Severus smiled, small and a smidge satisfied. He circled a chair, his favorite, and sat down, flattening his robes and plucking a bit of grass from his knee. “Minerva.”

“Severus. Well, this is a surprise.” She tossed her quill aside. She stacked and shifted an admirable pile of parchment and scrolls off to the side before summing a house elf. “Tea, Gertie, if you would be so kind.”

The elf popped out and in again, tray wobbling precariously but ably on her two hands. She placed it down on the desk and vanished once more.

Severus crossed his legs, smirked, and summoned over tea and sugar and lemon.

Minerva grinned and looked at him over the top of her spectacles.

“Excellent,” Dumbledore chimed in, “Most excellent. Fully restored?”

Severus nodded and sipped, smiling behind the safety of his tea cup.

“Marvelous timing, too,” Minerva added. “I don’t suppose you’ve reconsidered…”

“No.”

“Well.” Her eyes narrowed with judgement. “Given the note you sent, I hadn’t thought so, but one does hope.”

Severus lifted one shoulder.

“This is merely a social call then.” Her smile turned sly. “How lovely.”

“We are friends, are we not?”

She nodded. “Of course, you are always welcome.”

“You’ve graced me with your presence often enough over the last ten year. Now that I am able to return the favor.” Severus opened a palm and swept his hand up and down his body, indicating his own person.

“I am always glad to see you.” Minerva leaned forward and tucked her chin. “Anytime. Anytime at all, Severus.”

While Minerva prepared her own cuppa, Severus glanced around Albus’ former office. There were less knickknacks and more pictures. It smelled less of feathers, dust, and lemons, more of ginger and animal dander. Wholly comfortable, and much more than he’d ever done with the space when it was ever so briefly his.

“I am glad you came to see me,” Minerva continued. “I had intended to visit you over the weekend to speak about Harry’s situation.”

Severus’ lip curled. Involuntarily, of course.

“He needs help.”

Severus scoffed. “That is not new.”

“He is very suddenly alone, with three small children and that big house.”

“He is the least alone person I have ever known, Minerva.”

“I do not think that is true.” Minerva tilted her head. “Harry has always struck me as exceptionally lonely.”

Severus rolled his eyes. Harry Potter, apple of the Wizarding world’s eye, seventh son of the Weasley family, heir of two prominent families. _That child_ was alone in this universe, starving for affection and admiration?

Severus sent his tea cup floating back to the desk and steepled his fingers under his chin. “If Potter needs help with his children, he should call on their grandparents. Molly Weasley is—”

“Grieving.”

A sharp lump bobbed its way down his throat as he swallowed the rest of his sentence.

“And very busy,” Minerva continued. “She has five remaining children, four daughters-in-law, and seven grandchildren, with another on the way any day now. Also, she is only one person.”

Severus pressed his lips together. “…friends.”

“Harry has friends, but less than you are imagining. He is rather insular. He has kept his circle of people small, and they, _we_ , are all busy people as well. Hermione has created a shift schedule. We’ve all been following it since the funeral. I was hoping we could add your name to the rotation.”

“My name?”

“Yes. Harry respects you. He named one of those children after you, for goodness sake.”

A terrible decision, Severus had always thought so. He crossed his arms and shifted in his seat.

“It’s not forever.”

His eyes narrowed. “I loathe children.”

Minerva smiled, small and knowing. “I know.”

“Then why…”

She arched one brow. “You are needed.”

Severus harrumphed.

“You need not be perfect. Keep the children alive, feed, safe. You are fully capable of those basic needs.”

“Is Potter incapable of providing for his children’s basic needs?”

“Harry has returned to work.”

Severus’ face crumpled into wrinkles of dismay. “Why? Mrs. Potter’s body hasn’t even cooled yet. Are the Aurors so inept they can’t give their hero time to grieve?”

Minerva, a light in her eyes and a tight smile tugging at her mouth, shrugged. “It was his own choice.”

“The boy is a moron. Or a martyr. Or both.”

“He is imperfect. And he is sad and lost. And we, _we_ , will be here for him.”

**********

Severus was not nervous.

He was not apprehensive or intimidated.

Children were small and manageable and dumb.

Especially Potter children.

He pulled a breath in through his wide nostrils, and blew it out through his trembling lips.

He knocked on the front door of Grimmauld Place.

There was a high-pitched whine. Footsteps. The clink and jiggle of the lock turning and the door opening.

Molly Weasley stood there, the middle child on her hip. The oldest one, red-eyed and frowning, clung to her apron. “Oh, Severus. Perfect timing. Come in, come in.” She stepped back and patted the boy along. “Move, Jamie dear. There you go.”

Severus squeezed past the rabble and into the long, dank entry way. “Weren’t there three of them before?”

“What?” She looked from one child to the other. “Oh. Lily is sleeping.”

Molly made her way past him and down the stairs to the kitchen. Severus followed behind her.

The Potters had renovated the old Black manor, or, at least, they’d started to. The entry was still ill-lit with flaking paint and cracked floorboards. However, the kitchen and dining room had been modernized. Gleaming appliances. White counters and a pinewood table and chair set. They’d put in a window above the sink, a Wizarding one showing a sun-drenched field of flowers. It smelled of apples and some kind of slow-cooked meat. Severus’ empty stomach grumbled.

“So,” Molly began as she placed the boy, Albus (poor thing), in a highchair. He didn’t seem to mind, simply stuck a thumb in his mouth and stared at Severus. “I know you worked with children at Hogwarts, but this is a little different.”

“Yes, it is.”

Molly’s gnawed on her lower lip and looked Severus up and down. “It’s only an hour or two.”

Severus nodded and crossed his arms.

“It’s only I promised to meet Hermione at St Mungo’s. George will come here once Angelica arrives to relieve him at the shop. He’ll need to bring little Fred with him, of course. But you should be fine until then. It’s not so long.”

Severus had the distinct impression she was talking to herself. He certainly didn’t need to know all of these details. He was here and eventually someone else would be here. What he needed to know was how to keep the three smallest Potters alive until then.

“This is Jamie.” Molly pointed to the oldest boy. “Say hello to Mr. Snape.”

He sniffed, wetly. “Hello, Mr. Snape.”

Severus’ back teeth clenched. “Severus is…fine.”

“Sev-ah-russ”

Severus’ mouth pulled into a frown.

“And, Al. Oh.” She rushed over to the fridge and took out a jug of what looked like apple juice. She poured it into a blue and red sippy cup and screwed the lid tightly into place. She placed it in front of him and ran a hand through his messy black hair. “Here you go, sweet boy.”

“I want juice.” James stomped a foot, then looked askance at Severus out of the corner of his eye.

Molly said, “You’ve already had juice.”

Severus’s brow lifted toward his hair line. Was there a limit on how much juice a child could consume? He’d no idea. Logically, yes, it made utter sense. Good lord. He might actually kill one of them. His eyes darted over their small, feeble, soft bodies.

“Now, Severus.” Molly turned back to him.

He was all ears. He had to not kill Harry Potter’s children.

“Al’s just woken up from a nap. After his juice…” James interrupted to let his desire for juice be known again. Molly continued as though he’d not whined. “…he might want some crackers, or a sliced up banana. Simply ask him. He’s a bit shy. Lily should sleep for a bit longer still. I’ve only just got her down. But newborns are bit trickier. They don’t run on our schedules.”

Molly chuckled and looked at Severus as though he would understand.

He very much did not.

“Jamie.” She looked around for him. “Where’d he go? Oh, there.” The boy peeked out from behind Albus’ highchair. “He’s had juice, but not a snack. He can have water,” she looked at the boy sharply, “and a banana, crackers.”

“I want an orange,” James added.

Molly sighed, tired. Her wrinkles deeper, more plentiful. Severus ran a hand across his own brow.

“That’s fine.” She looked at Severus. “Just something healthy is all.”

Severus nodded and dropped his hand.

“Nappies, toys, books: all upstairs, in the study. You remember where that is, of course?”

“Of course.”

“Good, good.” She glanced around, her eyes caught on each child. “I’ll be off then. It’ll be fine, dear.” She placed a hand on Severus’ shoulder and then quickly removed it, nodded. “Thank you, by the way. It’s very good of you to help Harry.”

She hugged each child and kissed their temples before departing with a cheery, if nervous, wave. Severus looked at each boy in turn and drummed his fingers against the sides of his robes.

Albus stared at him around his tipped up sippy cup.

James hung off the arm of a chair and tilted his head. “Sev-rus, can I have a biscuit?”

“Severus. And no.”

“Hmm. Can I have grapes?”

“Yes.”

“We have to go to the store then,” he said with a very familiar grin.

Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy. “Your sister is asleep.”

The boy shrugged. “Put hers in a pram.”

“No. You can have a banana.”

“Orange.”

“Fine.”

Severus walked over to the fruit bowl on the counter, keeping an eye on the boy as he climbed up into a chair at the table.

“When will Uncle George come?”

“Soon.” Severus grabbed some of the kitchen roll and sat down across from the boy. “I hope.”

Severus used his wand to peel and divide the fruit. He gave a few wedges to James and a couple to Albus.

They both looked happy enough about it. Severus stole a wedge of his own and sighed as he settled in for a long afternoon.

**********

Severus opened his eyes and stared up at his bedroom ceiling.

The same muddy color, the same water stain.

He closed his eyes, rolled over, and burrowed into his quilt.

He had his second shift with the Potter brood this afternoon. The first shift hadn’t been so terrible. Lily hadn’t even woken up. The boys had had their snacks, then Severus watched them play for an hour before George Weasley arrived. Not so difficult. Although, they hadn’t added him to the schedule again since then. Until now.

He burrowed more deeply under his quilt. His stomach growled. He curled inward around the ache and pressed a hand to his belly. He hadn’t done the shopping this week. He hadn’t been able to do the shopping. His meager savings had finally run out.

Contrary to everything Severus stood for, he’d been hopeful that he’d be employed by now. He’d been free for weeks now, after all. Alas…

The letter had arrived on his stoop yesterday.

_So sorry. Not interested. Luck to you, St. Mungo’s._

Or it had said something to that effect. The parchment had burnt away to cinders before he’d committed it to memory.

He’d be fine. It was not as though he’d never gone hungry before. It had just been a very long time.

**********

Hermione Granger was enormous. In the three weeks since he’d seen her at the funeral, she’d grown, immensely. Severus became more and more concerned for the creaking kitchen chair she was currently sat in, spoon-feeding something orange to a child with a puff of matching orange hair atop its head. James watched, perched on his knees in a chair next to her. Severus did not look hungrily at whatever mush the child was eating; he would not allow himself to pine for baby food.

“This will probably be the last time we can watch the kids for Harry,” Ronald Weasley said, Albus propped on his hip. “Hermione’s already a week past her due date.”

“Only a week?”

That was the wrong thing to say, judging by the look Granger viciously threw in his direction.

“Uh. Yeah.” Weasley chuckled, eyes darting nervously towards his wife. “So—”

A shrill, wobbly cry echoed through the room.

“Oh, that’s Lils.”

Severus pressed his lips together, tightly.

“She’s napping up in the playroom. Come.” Weasley gestured with his hand for Severus to follow. “Jamie, you come too. Leave Auntie Hermione to feed Rosie.”

“But I wanna watch,” the boy said as he shuffled his way off the chair to follow them up to the first floor.

What had once been a rather dreary sitting room, was now a bright, colorful toy room. Everything was rainbow plastics and white wood. Cardboard books, stuffed animals, stacked blocks, and balls. And, rocking gently in an animal-bedecked swing, lit by the soft evening light streaming through a large window, was a red, howling grub of a human: Lily Potter II.

Weasley set Albus down to wander off to a puzzle in the corner before scooping up Lily. He cooed nonsense against her wet, scrunched up face. Severus stood very still and watched.

“She’s just hungry.” Weasley turned to James Potter. “Go let Auntie Hermione know that we need a bottle when she’s done with Rosie.”

The boy dashed off.

“I’ll change her nappy for you, Snape. One less thing to worry about, yeah.” Weasley hunkered down on the ground, the supplies for his endeavor floating over to him from the sofa. Severus averted his eyes. “Harry really appreciates all of us helping out.”

“Yes. I imagine he does.”

“It’s nearly suppertime for the big kids too,” Weasley continued. “After you feed Lils, she probably won’t last too long before she’s ready for bed. They don’t stay awake much at this age.”

Severus peeked from the corners of his eyes. Weasley was pinning everything closed again. Lily Potter was still distraught. Severus stomach grumbled in sympathy.

“Not sure when Harry’ll be home. Gin always complained that he worked late. He’s not changed much since…you know.”

They both glanced at Albus, obliviously slotting his puzzle pieces in place. Severus met Weasley’s eyes and inclined his head.

There was a clatter of feet and James appeared again, Granger not far behind. She had her daughter, Rose, on her hip as she passed Severus the bottle.

“Thank you, Professor Snape.”

Severus wrapped his fingers around the warmed plastic and nodded, not bothering to correct her.

“Ron, we need to go.”

Ron stood, Lily Potter cradled in his arms, and walked over to Severus. “Here you go.”

Severus took the baby in his arms and stopped breathing. He juggled the bottle and the wailing child and willed himself to not drop Harry Potter’s daughter, Lily Evans’ granddaughter. He forced air in and out of his lungs and watched the Weasleys depart, listened to the fading echo of their footfalls.

“You stick that end in her mouth.”

Severus looked down into the earnest brown eyes of James Potter.

James pointed at the nipple end of the bottle, to clarify his statement. “That end.”

Severus said, “Thank you.”

Severus settled himself into the corner of the sofa, adjusted his burden, and stuck the appropriate end into her tiny mouth. All went very quiet. Severus took a breath and looked down.

Lily Potter.

Lily.

She was tiny. All wide, watchful eyes and soft, red peach fuzz hair. She smelled like lavender and old milk. She sucked on her bottle like it was her last meal on earth. Severus brushed his finger over her round cheek. Her eyes focused on his and his heart thumped against his sternum.

“No, Al.” James’ voice broke into the saccharine moment. “Like this.”

James had commandeered Albus’ puzzle and was mashing the pieces into place as the younger boy watched. Albus stood up, grabbed a book, and walked over to the sofa. He scaled the couch and plunked himself down next to Severus. Albus looked up at him, and Severus saw where all of the genes for those green, green eyes had gone— into this small boy.

Albus kept an arm’s length from Severus. His eyes did a fair few circuits between Severus and Lily before he opened his book and settled in to read.

Severus arched an eyebrow and looked back at James.

James screwed his mouth up at Albus. He moved over to a pile of metal automobiles and proceeded to smash them together repeatedly.

The room filled with the sounds of slurping gurgles, the creak of turning pages, and the clank of metal on metal. It was oddly calm and peaceful. Simple. If everyone stayed right where they were and needed nothing more from him, he could make it through the evening.

A short time later, the bottle was mostly empty and his arm was asleep beneath a open-mouthed, drooling Lily Potter.

“You can put her in bed now.” James leaned against the arm of the sofa and looked down on her. “Do you need me to show you where her room is?”

Severus did, actually. Very slowly, he levered his body from the corner of the sofa and stood. He glanced back at Albus, who looked up at him with those green eyes, and ordered the boy to, “Stay.”

James led him across the landing and down a hall, to the pinkest room Severus had ever seen. His mouth hung open as his eyes took it all in: pink walls covered in pink-framed artwork of ballerinas, a pink rocking chair with a pink gingham cushion, stacks of pink blocks atop a fluffy pink rug. Severus shuddered and clutched the baby more tightly against his chest.

“You put her in there.” James pointed to the white cot with pink sheets in the corner.

Severus was afraid to go any further. “Perhaps if we turn off the light first.”

James reached up and flipped a switch. The darkness did indeed help dull the color.

Severus lowered Lily down into her cot and backed out of the room. He eased the door shut and exhaled a breath.

James tugged on his sleeve and asked, “Will you make dinner now?”

Severus’ stomach twisted and grumbled out a reply.

They fetched Albus as they passed the playroom. James plowed ahead down the stairs as Albus stretched out spindly arms and flailed scrawny legs and made Severus’ pulse spike as he traversed the same obstacle to follow his brother. He thought about simply carrying Albus, but didn’t want to cheat his namesake out of such a triumphant feat.

“You took so so so so long,” James greeted them at the bottom landing with fisted little hands on his hips.

Severus sighed and chose to move past the criticism and onto the kitchen. The magical window showed the same field of flowers, but there were now clouds of fireflies hovering in the air.

“What do you usually have for dinner?”

“Pasta. Chickens. Rice. Soup.” James lisped the ’s’ in the last word.

Albus grabbed Severus’ trouser leg and inched closer; Severus just barely stopped himself from shaking the boy off. Albus buried his face into the fabric and rubbed. Severus’ mouth turned down in the corners.

Severus opened the fridge to find that there was not much there to speak of. He turned to James and said, “Well.”

There was a whoosh of the lounge Floo upstairs, a slow tread of boots down the stairs, and then Harry Potter appeared in the doorway.

And he looked terrible.

His face was pale, his hair lank and greasy. The skin beneath his eyes was blue and puffy. His Auror robes hung loosely from his broad shoulders.

Potter pushed his glasses up with a finger and ran his hands through his hair. “Snape—Severus.” He smiled, a feeble twitch of his lips. Albus relinquished Severus’ trouser leg and toddled over to his father. Potter bent over with a grunt to pick him up. “Thank you for watching the kids. Is Lily sleeping?”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “Who?”

Potter’s eyes widened and he searched around. “Lily?”

“It was a joke.” Severus’ gripped the still open fridge door. “Yes, she’s in her nauseatingly pink room, sleeping.”

“Oh. Funny.” Potter’s face creased up. “Um.”

Severus’ toes curled in his shoes. His eyes darted from the fridge to James, Albus, and back to Potter. He licked his lips and admitted, “I was making dinner.”

“Oh.” Potter looked at the open fridge and screwed his face up. “I really need to get to the shops. There’s nothing in there, really.”

James piped in, running to the pantry. “There’s soup. And crackers.”

“Thanks, Jamie.” Potter jiggled Albus, who’d begun to fuss. “I’m sure I’ll find something.”

“I can stay.” The words flew from Severus’ mouth. He grunted his own distaste at himself and shut the fridge. “You can…change and…shower.” He hadn’t wanted to say, but he could smell Potter from across the room, like sweat and smoke. “I can manage soup.”

“And crackers.” James came to stand next to Severus, box in hand.

“And crackers.”

Potter bit his bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

Severus nodded, not at all sure.

“Alright then.” Potter looked down at Albus in his arms. “Yeah, okay.”

He handed Albus over to Severus. Severus pushed down the shock of the child going to him willingly and let Albus settle onto his hip.

“I won’t be long. Only a minute,” Potter said as he backed out of the room and disappeared.

Severus glanced at one boy and then the other. “Soup then?”

“Soup.” James agreed.

Albus nodded and in a small, squeak of a voice said, “Stoup.”

Severus’ brow lifted to his hairline. “Oh, he can speak.”

“Course he can,” James said. “He’s two.”

A pot was pulled out from a cupboard. James procured two tins of chicken noodle soup. They dumped them in and added water, per the instructions. It bubbled and frothed as it heated up.

Potter returned as Severus was laying out a row of saltine crackers on Albus’ highchair and James was laying spoons out at each seat. Potter’s lips tugged up in a smile, a genuine one.

“It smells nice,” Potter said. He ruffled James’ hair and sat down. He met Severus’ eyes and his smile grew.

“It’s merely soup.”

Severus ladled it into four bowls and distributed them around the table. He set a charm to Albus’ to cool it down a bit, and he sat down across from Harry Potter to eat dinner. James slurped broth and noodles sloppily into his mouth, and recounted his day in excruciating detail to his father. Potter took in every word, eagerly. No delay in his reactions, no glazed looks, not an iota of impatience.

He did keep sneaking glances in Severus’ direction. The situation was quite novel—Severus enjoying (and he was thoroughly enjoying this tinned soup, his first real meal in days) dinner with Harry Potter and his children, around a comfy, cozy kitchen table. Towards the end of the meal, Albus even smiled at him, cracker crumbs speckling his chin and lips. Severus had slid right into the Potter home.

**********

Molly Weasley was in his fireplace. Hermione Granger had gone into labor while watching Potter’s children.

“Severus, could you please come over?”

He could. Also, it was lunch time and he was hungry, and things were quite dire in the pantry at Spinner’s End.

Severus Flooed over to Grimmauld (as he now had full access to the Potter home) and found Molly and the kids crowded into the playroom.Albus walked over to him, arms raised, and Severus had little choice but to pick him up.

James waved a plastic sword at Severus. “Auntie Hermione almost had her baby in the kitchen!”

Severus lifted one eyebrow, feeling significantly less hungry.

“It wasn’t that dramatic, dear.” Molly patted his head and bent over to kiss it. “Severus, I wonder if you could take over Hermione and Ron’s shifts for the next few weeks. Mine as well, for this week, or maybe two weeks.”

“Is there truly no one else?” Albus wrapped his arms around Severus’ neck.

“No, fraid not.” Molly pressed her lips together and looked at the back of Albus’ head. “Besides myself, and I am spread quite thin to be honest, you are the only one on the shift schedule without a job.”

Severus pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded.

Immediately upon arriving home that evening, Severus sent his CV off to the Ministry’s Potions Division, Slug and Jiggers,and the Hogsmeade Apothecary.

**********

“Can we go to the park?”

“Where is the park?”

“It’s down the road.”

James pointed. However, since they were inside Grimmauld Place, in the playroom, it was not especially helpful. Severus closed his book ( _Quick-Fix Dinners for Families_ , Potter’d been shopping and Severus had plans). Beside him, Albus closed his own book. They both looked at James.

“What does going to the park entail, precisely?”

“Entail?” James wrinkled his nose and looked at him sideways.

“Entail means the requirements, necessities, for accomplishing something.”

“Oh.” The boy’s face scrunched up further.

Severus sighed. “What is needed to go to the park?”

James tilted his head in thought. “Snacks and drinks. A ball. Some toys.”

A great amount of effort then. Severus had learned over the last few weeks, since he and Molly had split the duties as the Potter children’s caretaker (with Severus taking three full days a week), that each child had a general need (food, rest, entertainment) that then broke down further into very specific needs.

James could eat a grape; Albus would choke on it.

Albus was happy with a book; James was very much not.

Lily could sleep in his arms; James never slept, ever, at all.

Well, perhaps, he did. Not when Severus was around though, and Severus was around from when Potter kissed his little head good-bye in the morning until Potter lavished attention on him throughout dinner.

James showed Severus where they kept the pram and the nappy bag. Severus bagged up crackers and prepared two bottles. He threw them all in the bag and added four bananas (Albus’ favorite), two sippy cups of water, and cheese sticks. He had James select one toy for each of them, and he had Albus carry his favorite book. Severus added his own book to the bag as well.

Thirty minutes later, they were loaded up and standing on the pavement outside Grimmauld. The Potters had a simply enormous pram. Two seats in front and a platform above the back tires for James to stand on. Ample storage beneath. Severus felt as though he was pushing an elephant through central London.

James looked up at him. “Will you play pirates with me?”

“Unlikely.”

James turned to his brother. “Al, play pirates with me.”

“No.” The little boy shook his head. “No, thank you.”

Severus smiled and then forced his mouth to stop.

They found the park quite easily. Severus parked the behemoth next to a bench, turning it so that he could watch Lily sleep from the seat he took up.

James, sword in hand, ran around and shouted about the sea and buried treasure. Albus climbed up next to Severus, pushed himself onto his knobby little knees, and rested his cheek against Severus’ chest to watch his brother.

Severus crossed his legs and laced his hands in his lap.

“Do you not wish to play?”

Albus pressed his face into the scratchy wool of Severus’ robe.

James whacked a tree and called it a villain.

“Your brother seems to be enjoying himself immensely.”

Albus stood up on the bench and wrapped his spindly little arms around Severus’ neck.

Severus hesitated. He unlaced and re-laced his fingers. Albus tightened his hold. Severus sighed and opened his arms. Albus climbed into his lap and settled in.

“Happy?”

Albus nodded, his dark hair catching on fabric as his head shifted against Severus.

**********

Severus picked a splinter from his thumb. The sliver of wood perfectly matched the wood of his kitchen table because that is where it’d come from. Of course, he no longer had a kitchen table because the mending charm he’d thrown at it this morning was the final straw for the ancient artifact. It promptly exploded.

Thus, the splinter.

Severus crossed his legs, perched his hands on his knee, and gazed across the wreckage of the table to his other kitchen chair.

Perhaps, he could find a suitable log and transfigure it into a table.

He certainly could not afford another table.

He sighed and wondered what it would cost to run an ad offering up custom made potions in the _Daily Prophet_. Not that he could afford it, no matter what it was. His savings was bone dry. Of course, he would also need customers willing to pay for the cost of ingredients up front.

He uncrossed his legs and crossed them the other way. He jiggled his dangling foot.

**********

Severus sat on the floor in Grimmauld Place.

He found it was easier to entertain the children from down here.

He hadn’t thought he would be entertaining the Potter children on this day, as it was his day off. However, Molly had appeared in his fireplace just after lunchtime. George and Angelina’s son was ill. They were both at work and unable to leave to attend to him so she must. Molly didn’t want to bring the sick child around Potter’s brood. So…

Severus sat on the floor in Grimmauld Place.

Albus was nestled in the hollow his crossed legs created. Severus and he flipped through a book about a caterpillar with an eating disorder of some kind.

James ran little wooden trains in circles around them and added little comments here and there about what they were reading.

Lily, ever so slowly growing out of her flubberworm stage, laid on her stomach and watched James. Every now and then she would lift her arms and her legs into the air and squawk like some kind of great flying beast.

Grimmauld Place smelled delightfully of roasting meat, stewing vegetables, and baking bread. Severus was quite excited about his unexpected dinner. It was well worth the effort he and James had put into it. Albus had even managed to help by sprinkling a good deal of spices over everything.

They’d just arrived at the part where the caterpillar eats his way through a slice of cheese when Potter arrived home. Albus perked up at the whoosh of the Floo and James raced from the room to meet the clomp of boots at the top of the stairs.

Severus saw Potter in his Auror uniform quite often now, but every time Potter appeared in a doorway his heart thudded its way through an extra couple of beats.

Harry Potter, much as it pained him to admit, had grown much more pleasantly into his father’s odious features. Perhaps because he had lived almost a decade longer than James Potter had been allowed to.

Broad shoulders. Scruffy jawline. Golden skin.

Those sparkling bloody eyes.

“Severus?” Potter’s face scrunched up in a way that made him look like a child. “Where’s Molly?”

James hopped up and down. “Fred threw up all over!”

Potter eyes went wide and then darted around the room.

“Not here,” Severus said. “Thankfully. However, Molly asked me to step in so she could help her son and his wife care for the sick child.”

“Oh.” Harry ran a (strong, capable) hand through his hair. “Thank you, and I am so sorry, Severus. I feel like you haven’t had a day off in ages.”

“It does feel that way.” Severus flipped the page. The caterpillar had taken a bite out of some rogue salami. Albus pointed to it.

“I need to make time to interview for a nanny.” Potter sat down cross-legged in front of Severus. James threw himself down into Potter’s lap. Potter reached over and pet Lily’s tufty hair. “I don’t even know where to begin. It’s been a lot to think about. I never thought I’d need one.”

Their eyes met and they both looked away.

Potter continued, “I really don’t trust anyone with the kids, you know?”

Severus lifted an eyebrow.

“Except family. And you, of course.”

Severus hummed, pressing his lips tightly together.

“I will never be able to properly thank you. To thank everyone.” He kissed James’ temple. “What are you reading, Al?”

“Cah-pillar.”

Severus turned the book so Potter could appreciate it in its full glory.

“A classic.” Potter grinned. “The house smells absolutely fantastic.”

“We made stew and bread,” James said, loudly, making Potter lean away slightly.

Potter met his eyes. He gnawed at his bottom lip.

Severus knew what was coming, and he knew what his answer would be. He straightened his spine and allowed it to happen with some dignity.

“Severus, would you…maybe…” Potter fumbled his way through this inevitable moment. “I would really appreciate it if you could…full-time…and I would pay you and everything.”

“Spit it out, Potter.”

Potter pulled in a deep breath. “Would you be my nanny?”

Severus made sure he looked properly disgusted with the idea as he nodded his head yes.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus came home to an owl asleep on his stoop, blocking the door. He rustled his grocery bags at it, but the feathered thing slept on. He stomped his foot. Then, his other foot. It tucked its beak, ignoring him, and Severus clicked his tongue against his front teeth.

Ruddy Owl Post birds.

He bent low and hissed, “Move, you blasted thing.”

The bird’s eyes peeled open. It ruffled its feathers, hooted, and hopped itself out of the way.

Severus finagled himself and his grocery bags through the door as the owl swooped in after him. It followed him to the kitchen and perched itself on the top of his ancient refrigerator. Severus dumped the bags onto the counter then reached up and snatched the letter attached to its out-stretched foot.

He moved his glare from the bird down to the Ministry Seal affixed to the parchment. His toes curled inside his boots. He looked at the owl and, slowly, enunciating each word, he said, “Go away.”

Its fluffy head reared back. It blinked and took off, leaving behind a handful of feathers floating in the air.

With a flick of the wrist, Severus slammed his front door shut. The lock snicked into place. His lips curled up on one side as he drummed his fingers against the waxy stamp. He broke the seal with a quick slice of his fingernail and unrolled the parchment.

_Severus Snape,_

_It is with great regret that we decline your appli—_

The parchment lit on fire. It smoldered away to ash and was no more.

His molars gnashed and cracked together until his gums ached. His nostrils flared against the smell of smoke and burnt paper. He threw open the fridge and the pantry doors. He mishandled a head of lettuce and a bundle of carrots. Flung bags of rice and beans onto shelves. Smashed a loaf of bread into a bread bin. Jostled jars of jam and tins of green beans. He balled up his empty shopping bags and set them on fire too.

He took in his fully stocked kitchen, with his hands balled into tight fists and his breath panting out through his clenched teeth, everything paid for with his paycheck from Harry James Potter. He cursed the man in the same instant he thanked the gods for him.

**********

Severus arrived via Floo to an eerily quiet Grimmauld Place. Dark and silent, it reminded him of grimmer times. He shuddered and searched for a clock. Seven: his usual start time.

The hairs on the back of his neck sprung to life and cold trickled down his spine.

His wand dropped into his hand and he crept out of the sitting room.

The stairway down to the kitchen: ink dark. Absent the usual scents of coffee, banana, and toasting bread, of the echoing sounds of James’ chatter and Lily’s monosyllabic additions.

He climbed the stairs to the first floor. A night light cast the landing in an orange glow. There was a rustle of sheets and the hollow plink of wood knocking against wood. Severus bent his ear towards it and tiptoed in the direction of the children’s room.

James’ door stood slightly ajar. The lamp on his side table was on and Severus could plainly see the boy sprawled in the middle of his bed. Eyes shut and mouth open. Chest rising and falling.

Severus turned to Albus’ door across from James’. The source of the plink-plink-plink sound revealed itself to be Albus, sat on the floor and stacking blocks one on top of the other. The boy looked up at Severus, smiled, and said, “Hi.”

“Hello.” Severus’s eyes darted around the room. Nothing seemed amiss. He held out a hand. “Come.”

Albus stood and walked to Severus. He lifted his arms and Severus dutifully scooped him up, cradling him against one hip to keep his wand arm free. Severus swept the landing once more before moving on to Lily’s room at the end of the hall. Her door was tightly shut.

Ever so slowly, Severus turned the knob and eased the door open. A nightlight, the same sort from the landing, lit the room with a low orange light. Severus edged towards her cot and peeked down. Lily was fast asleep with her bum in the air.

Albus pointed at her and said, “Bunny.”

Severus looked down again and saw there was indeed a pink fluffy rabbit printed on the seat of Lily’s sleeping gown.

Severus nodded at Albus. “Yes, that is a bunny. Very good, Albus.”

Albus smiled and shoved his thumb into his mouth. Severus pulled it back out.

Severus backed out of the room and looked up at the ceiling. He looked at Albus, and then back up at the ceiling, then back at Albus. If Potter had been murdered in the night, or gone the way of Ginevra before him, it would likely traumatize the child to see it. He deposited the boy at James’ door and instructed Albus to, “Stay with your brother.”

Albus clutched the door jamb with small hands. Severus kept his eyes on the boy, on his round face and bright green eyes, as Albus in turn watched Severus ascend to the next level. Severus shooed him off into James’ room before tearing his eyes away to peek around to the next landing.

No furniture askew.

Severus sniffed. No tang of blood or whiff of death.

He tightened his grip around his wand and cleared the remaining steps. Severus hadn’t been up here since his Order days, but it didn’t seem much different. Same patchy wallpaper, same oversized furniture. If he remembered correctly, the darkened doorway across from him would be Potter’s master suite. Severus ran his tongue along the sharp ridges of his teeth, flexed his knuckles, and slid inside.

The shadow of a four-poster bed loomed against the far wall. The room smelled of grass and wood and unwashed clothes. The only presence Severus sensed was the one snuffling quietly in the bed. Creeping nearer, Severus saw that Potter slept much like his oldest son, in a great sprawl of limbs and hair. The sheets tangled around his hips and left the perfectly alive and healthy male specimen open to Severus’ perusal. Potter was in the pink of health, in fact. All golden skin and rosy cheeks. He wore no shirt, only low slung flannel bottoms. There was a lovely scattering of dark hair across a hard chest, trailing down a taut stomach, and plumping back into a healthy thatch that disappeared (sadly) beneath the soft, rumpled sleep clothes.

Severus straightened his spine and narrowed his eyes. He held his wand high and cast, “Lumos.”

Potter snorted and his nose twitched as the room blazed to life. His hand shifted and landed on his chest, his middle finger pointing to a pink, peaked nipple. Severus pulled his eyes upwards. In the light, perhaps, Potter’s face did appear a bit drawn, pale, the underside of his eyes puffy and blue.

The patter of little feet drifted up the stairs. There were some murmurings and then James, annoyed, prodding his brother to, “Hurry up already.”

Severus bent low, lips very close to the delicate whorl of Potter’s ear, and said, at a completely normal volume, “Are you ill, Potter?”

Potter jerked away with a very unmanly sound. He sprung upwards, but his legs tangled in his sheets and he toppled over the opposite of the bed. He slammed into the floor with an ominous crunching sound. Potter groaned and, in the room below, the baby began to wail.

“Dad!”

James sprinted into the room and straight to Potter’s side. Albus ambled in after him, thumb shoved into his mouth. Potter sat up, rubbing roughly at his right shoulder.

James assessed his father, patting at his hair, his cheek. Then, he turned a fiery little glare on Severus. Severus arched one eyebrow at the child then turned to Potter.

“It is well after seven o’clock.”

Potter’s eyes widened and darted towards the window, daylight just beginning to bleed through the curtains. His eyes closed and his shoulders slumped. With a wince and a hiss, his hand flew back to his shoulder.

“Are you ill?”

Potter rolled his shoulder and pushed himself to his feet. “No. No, of course not.”

“Have you injured yourself?”

Albus lifted his hands to Potter and Potter obliged, carefully hoisting him up to perch on a bare hipbone. “I think I’ll be alright. Just fell on it strange.”

“Do you not require my services today?”

“No, I do. I do.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “I don’t understand what happened.”

Severus hummed. Potter dashed about the room, flinging open closets and pulling out robes and trousers and button-up shirts. James chewed on his bottom lip and watched. Albus hooked an arm around his father’s neck and held on tightly.

“Lily always wakes me for a bottle, like clock-work, at six.” He stilled and they all took in the loud, upset cries coming from downstairs. “I don’t know how I slept through that. I _never_ sleep through that.”

“She only started crying when you fell out of bed.”

“Oh. That makes me feel a bit better.” He stood there, Albus taking up one arm and his red Auror robes the other. His dark hair sticking up in all directions. His eyes wild and unmoored. “I’m running so late.”

Severus stepped forward and took Albus from Potter’s arms. “I will begin my own work day then, and leave you to get ready.”

“Lily…”

“We’ve got it, dad,” James piped up. “I’ll make breakfast and everything. Don’t worry at all.”

James darted from the room and Severus sedately followed. He gathered a weepy Lily on his way past and carefully navigated the stairs with a child nestled against each shoulder down to the kitchen. He found James had already placed a bowl on Albus’ highchair and one at his own seat.

Albus pointed at his spot and said, “Banana.”

Severus slid him into his chair, very careful not to drop Lily in the process.

James emerged from the pantry with the bread bag and a box of Honey Loops. Severus left the boy to it as he prepped the coffee machine for Potter and a bottle for Lily. Severus kept an eye on James as he popped two slices of bread into the toaster, then acquired and carried a jar of strawberry jam, a tub of butter, and a butter knife to the table.

The appropriate morning scents now filling the air, Severus settled into a seat with Lily cradled in his arms, warm and squirming. He guided the bottle to her unhappy mouth and she proceeded to suck away at the formula. The toast sprang upwards just as Potter entered the kitchen in a frantic rush of robes and hair and curses.

“I am so sorry, guys. Severus. I can’t believe—I set an alarm. I swear I did. I think.” He ran his hands into his hair and tugged at the ends. “Oh, Merlin. You made coffee.”

Potter poured very nearly the entire pot into a tall thermos. He brought the slices of toast to the table. He handed one to James and slathered the other in butter and jam. He folded it in half and polished it off in two bites.

“Banana, please,” Albus said.

Potter spun around and grabbed a bunch from the fruit bowl on the counter. He peeled one and handed it to the boy. Potter looked exhausted. If he hadn’t watched the man snore and drool and snuffle about in his bed only fifteen minutes ago, he would have thought Potter hadn’t slept a wink last night.

“Would you like one as well, Jamie?”

“No.” James poured Honey Loops into his bowl and shook his head.

They all watched as Potter peeled a second banana a stuck it on James’ plate anyway.

James wrinkled his nose, but picked it up and took a bite. He mumbled, “Thanks,” around his mouthful.

Potter fastened a cufflink. “No problem, son.”

Potter circled the table, kissing the head of each child, including Lily’s nestled in the crook of Severus’ elbow. His soft hair tickled Severus nose and smelled of lavender and lemon.

“I am so sorry to run out on you like this,” Potter said as he backed out of the room. “But I am so late. I’m so sorry.” He looked at each of them for a long second, and then he was gone.

Severus turned back to the table. Albus stared hard at his banana as he took another bite. James’ tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he scooped far too much jam onto his toast. Severus looked down at Lily and lifted one eyebrow. She smiled up at him around the nipple of her bottle, white milk leaking from the corner of her mouth.

**********

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

James stood at the window, elbows resting on the sill and head swaying back and forth as he sang to the downpour outside.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

Severus handed a blue block with a large ‘P’ on it to Albus.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

Albus carefully placed it on the top of his tower.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

Severus handed a green block with a circle on it to Albus.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

Albus had to stand up to place the block on top of the last one.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

With two fingers, Severus rubbed circles into his temples.

“Block, please,” Albus said.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

Severus began, “James, perhaps—”

James raised his voice. “Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

Severus closed his eyes and drew a breath deep, very deep, into his lungs.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

“Block!”

Severus glared at a two-year old; a new low in his life. He handed Albus a yellow block with a ‘C’ on the side.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

“James, I must insist—”

“Blooooock!” Screeched Albus. Hands balled tightly at his sides.

James turned from the window and goggled at Albus with a half-smile.

Severus straightened his spine, laced his hands together in his lap, and stared at Albus with an eyebrow cocked.

James chuckled and resumed his position.

Albus wailed his little fists against his block creation. It tumbled to the ground in a great heap of colorful wood around both he and Severus.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

Severus had known he would somehow kill Harry Potter’s children one day. He assumed it would be an accident. He’d feed an uncut grape to Albus, drop Lily wrangling her into the tub, or lose James in traffic while walking to the park. However, it turned out murder would be the cause. A simple strangling or defenestration. Either sounded absolutely delightful right now.

Albus flopped to the carpet, sobbing, one block clutched tightly in each grubby hand. He kicked his feet in rapid succession, in the most disappointing cliche tantrum Severus had ever witnessed.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

“Albus, this behavior is ridiculous. Stand up.”

Albus continued to cry into the rug.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day.”

“James Sirius Potter. I swear to Merlin if you do not cease singing that song I will—” What? What would he do? “I will not take you to the park for a month.”

James’ mouth popped open and then shut in a little rosebud of anger. He crossed his arms and shoved his forehead against the glass.

Severus closed his eyes and ran a finger down the long line of his overlarge nose. He’d just threatened to ground James Potter. Harry Potter’s son.

He needed a moment.

Severus opened his eyes. Albus’ had quieted to sniffling little hiccups.

“Albus.”

The boy hunched his back and pulled his limbs in, like a frightened turtle.

“Stand up, Albus.”

He lifted his head. “No.” And lowered it.

“Fine,” Severus said. “I must rebuild this fortification myself then.”

Albus grunted, but remained a turtle.

“As the sole builder, I shall have to call it Severus Tower.”

Albus stayed still.

“Or, perhaps,” Severus arranged four blocks into a base for his structure, “Slytherin Spire.”

“No,” James moaned from the window, turning around.

Albus sat up, his face red and his lips pushed out into a pout that very much made him look like Potter. Harry Potter. A Potter.

Severus added four more blocks.

Albus stood up, sniffed. He grabbed two blocks and carefully centered them on top of Severus’.

“We should call it Castle Potter,” James said.

“We?” Severus watched Albus scrub his eyes and pick up a purple block with a square on the side. “You’ve been no help at all.”

“I could help.”

Albus handed the block to Severus. “I thought you were too busy singing to the weather.”

“I’ll help.”

James joined them, chatting away about knights and dragons and strong outer walls. Albus listened and handed him blocks. Severus worked very hard on not allowing the sides of his mouth to tick up in anything resembling satisfaction.

**********

“And then I leapt off the branch,” James spread his arms wide, “and Severus caught me.”

Potter nodded, spoon stopped halfway to his mouth. The scoop of rice it previously held had fallen off during the part of James’ story where Severus had shrieked (in a very manly, respectable way) upon finding James perched on the highest branch of the tallest tree in London (or so it had seemed at the time) while Severus’ back was turned (changing the actual foulest nappy in London).

“That is quite the story,” Potter said and turned wide eyes on Severus.

Severus cleared his throat. He speared a bite of chicken, brought it to his mouth, and arched an eyebrow at Potter’s bemused expression.

Potter bit his chapped bottom lip between white teeth. “Maybe don’t do that again, Jamie, yeah?”

James, perched on his knees, heaved his shoulders through a shrug and picked up his fork. “Dad, I was bein’s a hippogriff.”

“Being.” Severus pulled his bread roll apart.

“ _Be-ing_.” James nodded as he enunciated each syllable.

“Well,” Potter said, digging his spoon back into his rice. “We don’t want to give S-Severus a heart attack, so let’s be a hippogriff on the ground from now on.”

“That’s no fun though.”

“Done, please!”

“Alright, Al. One sec.”

Potter shoveled several more bites into his mouth before going to his son. While Potter wiped Albus’ face and hands clean, Severus floated his, Potter’s, and Albus’ dishes to the sink. Severus always did the dishes before he left for the day. Potter had never said he had to do the dishes, but it felt only right since Severus ate the food (and that only felt right because he prepared it each day).

A shrill wail wafted down the stairs.

“Oh,” Potter said, pausing with his hands hooked under Albus’ armpits. “Lily.”

Severus turned from the sink and met his eyes. Lily never woke during this time of day. She went down for the night at six, like clockwork. Lily’s cries paused. They all stilled, like prey caught in a monster’s sights. Then, the cries rose again, louder and angrier.

“Go to her, Potter,” Severus said. “I’ll take care of the boys.”

“You’ll put them to bed?”

Severus narrowed his eyes, wondering if he’d just damned himself. “It can’t be that hard.”

Lily, impossibly, increased the volume of her cries. Potter nodded and dashed from the room. Severus looked at James, scooping green beans into his mouth, and Albus, rubbing at his eyes with little fisted hands. He charmed the dishes to soak and scrub themselves, not as effective as doing the thing properly by hand, but needs must.

He picked Albus up and hurried James through the last bites of his meal before herding them to bathroom up on the first floor. Bath time was somehow more wet than he’d thought it would be, and he’d imagined a world-ending flood of biblical proportions. James insisted on bubbles, a Weasely Wizard Wheezes product that sang ridiculous songs about toe jam and ear wax each time they popped. Albus bopped around to each one, sending waves of water to the tiled floor around Severus’ knees. He used a charm to dry himself off, but wrapped each boy up in a fluffy towel.

He sent James off to dress himself for bed and carried Albus into his room across the hall. He placed him in the center of the room and opened several dresser drawers in search of sleep clothes. Finally, ten minutes and one hastily-recalled nursery rhyme later, Albus was snuggled beneath the covers, bundled in a set of footed-pajamas bedecked with owls and frogs, his hair a soft, clean puff of black on the top of his head.

Severus tucked the edges of his quilt around him. “Goodnight, Albus.”

“Goodnight, please.”

Severus nodded, turned off the lights, and pulled the door halfway shut. Soft cries floated down the hallway from Lily’s room. Severus caught a glimpse of Potter pacing and rocking the infant. Potter’s eyes met his and the man’s lips curved up in the corners. Severus scurried into James’ room.

James had plunked himself into the center of his bed. Whereas Albus’ bed was small and sat very low to the ground, little more than a cot without sides, James had a proper bed, with sheets covered in pirate flags, chests of gold, and old-fashioned ships. His entire room had been done up in a sort of pirate theme. There was a fluffy blue rug on the ground. A mural featuring a tropical island surrounded by an angry sea graced one wall. Shelves along another wall housed sentimental knick-knacks, a model ship, and dust. An over-sized treasure map was pinned to wall over the bed.

James held a book out to Severus as he approached the bed.

“Use your words,” Severus said and sat down at the boy’s hip.

James’ lips pulled to the side, but he said, politely, “Please read this to me.”

Severus took it from his hands. “ _The Hobbit_.”

“Yes. Dad and me are reading it.”

“Hmm.” Severus flipped through the pages until he landed on the bookmark. “One chapter.”

James smiled and turned on his side to face Severus.

Potter and James were a little over halfway through the book. Bilbo and the dwarves had just arrived at their destination and had nominated the little hobbit to enter Lonely Mountain alone. Severus wondered if Potter had read this book prior to James, or if he would have to go back and re-read this chapter in his own time to catch up. It was a thrilling chapter, after all, and it didn’t put James to sleep one bit.

“Why do dragons like gold?”

Severus shut the book with a snap and placed it back on the side table. “I suppose, it must make them happy.”

James nodded, his hair catching on his pillow and tangling. “I think it’s cause it’s shiny.” He smiled and said, “My dad fought a dragon once.”

“I know.” Severus leaned in closer. “I was there.”

James scoffed and snuggled in. “So was Uncle Ron and Auntie Hermione and Uncle Neville and Auntie Luna and everybody. Uncle George said the dragon was the size of a—”

Severus noted his mother hadn’t been mentioned, perhaps Miss Weasley wasn’t so charmed by Potter’s heroics, and reached for the lamp to turn it off.

“No!” James pushed up onto his elbows. “Leave it on, please.”

Severus arched an eyebrow and asked, “How can you sleep with the light on?”

“How can you sleep without the light on?” The boy narrowed his eyes.

Severus narrowed his eyes in return, but retracted his hand.

“Thank you.” James settled back down and shut his eyes. “Goodnight, Severus.”

“You are certain about the light.”

James opened his eyes, said “Yes,” and then closed them again.

Severus drummed his fingers against his thighs and pulled the inside of his between his back teeth, but pushed to his feet. “Goodnight, James.”

Severus exited to the landing and eased the door closed, leaving it slightly ajar. The house was quiet. Lily’s door was shut. A peek into Albus’ room revealed only stillness and silence.

“Nox.” The landing went dark, save for the orange glow of a nightlight and the pale shaft of light from James’ door. Severus glanced up at the ceiling and then down the stairs towards the ground floor and the kitchen beneath. His toes curled in his shoes. He descended.

Potter lifted a plate from the sink and dried it with a flick of his hand. His Auror robes were gone and he wore the tight-fitting black trousers of his uniform with a white vest. Trim waist and broad shoulders. The muscles moved and flexed pleasantly as he shifted over the sink. The skin on the back of his neck was tan and smooth. Severus had the odd urge to run a finger along the small expanse of flesh.

“Thank you, Severus,” Potter said over his shoulder with a grin. “I like the voice to did for Smaug. You really didn’t have to.”

Severus shrugged and stepped up to the counter. He grabbed the dry dishes and put them away in the cabinet.

“I have no idea what I would do without you, honestly. You are a godsend, Severus.”

“I don’t think you pay regular wages to godsends.”

Potter chuckled. “I think you would probably be here even if I wasn’t paying you.”

“You think too highly of me.”

“No, I don’t think I do.”

Their eyes met. Severus turned and put the last dish away.

Potter waved his wand over the table and soapy bubbles sprung up and disappeared, leaving behind a shiny surface. Severus glanced around the room. Nothing more was dirty or out of place. All was in order for the end of the day. Still, Severus hesitated.

Stood side-by-side with Potter, in the evening quiet of Grimmauld Place, the moment sat oddly on his shoulders. Intimate. Domestic. Inappropriate. Severus moved towards the doorway.

“Wait, Severus.” Potter twisted his wedding ring round and round his finger. “Do you want to stay for a drink?”

Severus looked at Potter. The man’s eyes darted over Severus in return. Potter tugged at the hem of his too-tight shirt. All of the shifting of fabric made his nipples pebble and ruin the lay of the garment against his chest. 

“I have wine.” Potter pushed a hand through his hair, then, ridiculously, flattened his fringe back over his scar. “Um, fire whiskey?”

Severus’ fingers twitched against his robes. “Wine suits.”

Potter’s face split into a grin. “Fantastic. Sit, please?”

As Potter disappeared into the pantry, Severus sat down at the table and rubbed his hands up and down on his thighs. He placed his elbows on the table and then removed them, lacing his hands together on the tabletop instead.

“I have a red from someplace in France and another red from someplace in Italy,” Potter called from inside of the pantry.

Severus tongue raced across his bottom lip. “Either is fine.”

Potter placed both bottles on table. “You should call me Harry.” He retrieved two glasses from the cabinet above the fridge. “You can open the bottle.”

Severus uncorked it with his wand, happy to have something to do. Potter placed the glasses on the table and Severus poured as well. Potter sat down and smiled at Severus. He lifted his glass and said, “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They clinked their glasses and each took a small sip. The wine was acceptable. Cheap, slightly fruity. The wine of a twenty-something that didn’t buy much wine. Severus wondered if Ginevra purchased it before she died. He struggled envisioning Potter buying such a thing while lugging three children around the local Tesco.

“Thank you, again, Severus. Thank you a million times.”

“Potter—”

“Harry.”

“Potter, I work for you. You need not thank me for doing my job.”

Potter huffed, small, and looked off to the side. “You never had to help me at all, to start with, and you kept coming back when everyone else fell away.”

Severus shrugged. “What else was I to do?”

“Nothing.” Potter spun the stem of his wine glass between his fingers. “I appreciate that you came at all. I know I’m not really anything to you anymore.”

Severus gazed down into his wine. “Minerva forced me.”

“Did she?”

“Hm.”

Severus glanced up through his lashes. Potter smirked at him and tilted his head. Severus rolled his eyes and looked away.

“She did,” Severus said. “And I do not appreciate insinuations that imply otherwise.”

Potter licked his bottom lip and drew it into his mouth. He nodded. “Alright. If you say so.”

They sipped their wine, Severus with narrowed eyes and Potter with far too much twinkle in his.

**********

Severus placed his ancient, battered suitcase on his bed and stared at it.

He’d not needed to pack a suitcase in a very, very long time. However, his position as the Potter children’s caretaker necessitated an overnight stay at Grimmauld. Potter had a stakeout, in Italy, one that required him to be away for two nights. Severus was not thrilled about it, but he was resigned to his fate. Also, Potter offered him a bonus for his time. A sizable one. He’d be a fool to turn it down.

He folded a set of sleep clothes, two changes of clothes. In a small ziplock bag, he bundled up various hygiene needs: a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant. He arranged it neatly in the suitcase. He blinked down at the tidy piles. He added a book and zipped it shut.

An hour later, Severus stood before Potter’s Floo with Lily’s warm weight nestled in his arms. Albus had a hand hooked into Severus’ pocket and warily watched as his father and brother hugged good-bye. Potter hesitated in front of his fireplace, suitcase in hand. James flung himself against Potter’s trouser leg and clung on for dear life.

“It’s just two nights.” Potter chewed at the corner of his bottom lip with his white teeth and looked at Severus with wide eyes. “I’ll be home again before you know it. Everything will be just fine.” Severus wanted to tell Potter to stop being a ridiculous, handwringing fool, but instead found himself nodding in solidarity. Potter nodded in return, sucked in a breath, straightened his spine, and said, “Alright then.”

He pried James off his trousers and disappeared into the Floo with a whoosh of air.

Severus did what he could to distract both himself and the children from Potter’s absence. Except for Lily, of course, who did not realize she’d been abandoned to Severus’ tender mercies for the weekend.

First, they wore themselves out by taking the long way to and from the park. Then, they put together a chicken pot pie for dinner, with a crust made from scratch. While it baked, they built all of Diagon Alley with blocks, destroyed it, and built Hogsmeade in its place. At bath time, Severus conceded to play the evil sea serpent to James’ heroic Captain Potter figure. Albus, his first mate, valiantly stabbed Severus in the shoulder, ending the game. Finally, one book for Albus (a rabbit says goodnight to all the random bits and bobs around his home), two chapters for James (the dwarves crowned a new King Under the Mountain and Bilbo returned home), and Severus was ready to pass out.

He closed _The Hobbit_ and reached for James’ lamp to turn it off.

“Leave it on, please.”

Severus scowled. “On.”

“Yes.” James rolled to his side and closed his eyes. “Goodnight, Severus.”

Severus sighed, but conceded. “Goodnight, James.”

“Jamie.”

Severus hummed and left the room.

The next day was a great deal more of the same. Right down to James’ refusal to sleep in the dark. Severus paused with his hand on the lamp switch. He blinked down at James’ closed eyes.

“Goodnight, Severus.”

Severus tapped a finger against the switch and asked, “Are you afraid of the dark?”

“No.” James opened his eyes. He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not a coward.”

Severus narrowed his eyes and pulled his hand back from the lamp. James closed his eyes again. Severus retreated from the room, leaving the door ajar the requisite amount. He glanced at Lily’s shut door and double checked the monitor charm he’d applied to her room. Albus’ room was still and quiet.

Severus climbed the stairs to the next floor (Potter’s room) and then continued onto the top floor, where the guest room was situated. He went through the obligatory bedtime routine (toilet, shower, teeth) and sunk into Grimmauld’s ridiculously comfortable guest bed.

He stared at the ceiling and contemplated reckless, brave James Potter’s fear of the dark.

**********

Severus swiped a hand across the surface of his brand new kitchen table. It was small, cheaply-made, and black. Not at all like the sturdy oak table the Potters had, but perfectly functional. For Severus and for Spinner’s End. He could never have the children over for a meal.

Not that he would ever want to.

For any reason.

Severus pursed his lips and furrowed his brow at the mere thought.

He prepared a pot of coffee. He dumped a packet of oatmeal into a bowl and boiled a bit of milk in a mug. He added the milk to the bowl and mixed. Then, he poured himself a cup of coffee, the residual milk lightening the brew just enough. He settled down at his table with a sigh and his breakfast.

He grabbed a banana from his fruit bowl and accioed a butter knife. He peeled it open and stared at it. Every morning, he’d peel one for Albus and then one for himself. Albus was likely eating a banana this very moment. Severus sniffed and shook his head as he diced the fruit up over his oatmeal and dug in. He scraped the last bit from the bottom and wondered what Potter planned to do with the children today. Lily had been suspiciously sniffly yesterday. She’d refused to nap for longer than twenty minutes. Potter was likely having an awful Saturday with a cranky baby.

And why on earth was he thinking of Potter and the children on his day off?

Severus’s spoon clattered into his empty bowl and he picked up his coffee mug, annoyed with himself. An owl fluttered against the window. A tiny, rambunctious owl. Severus stood to allow it entry. It alighted on the table and held out an envelope to Severus. The bird pecked at the dregs of his oatmeal before taking back off out the window.

Inside the envelope was an invitation to a birthday party.

A surprise birthday party.

For Potter.

 _Harry_ Potter.

Severus knew he would go. He knew it like he knew his middle name was Tobias. And much like his middle name, he loathed it. How had he allowed himself to get to this place? Where he questioned bananas and pondered a child’s sniffles? Where he was invited to surprise parties thrown for heroes? Severus clicked his tongue against his teeth and spent the rest of his day off interrogating his life choices.

**********

Hugo Weasley was very small. Lily could eat him if she so desired, and with the way she was currently eyeing him across the blanket, she just might.

Granger had cordoned off a corner of the Weasley sitting room for the tinier Weasley grandchildren. Hugo laid on his back, staring up at a colorful, spider-y, noise-making contraption. Lily had one of these as well, at home, but Severus had never thought to use it. Honestly, he had seen it folded up in a corner and assumed it was some strange infant torture device.

Lily inched around the blanketed area, rolling and scooting and slithering closer and closer to her cousin with wide eyes and a wet, drool-soaked chin.

Severus sat pin straight in his chair, legs crossed at the knees and hands laced together and tucked in his lap, and watched Hugo and Lily as the party swirled on around him. The Burrow had a lovely, lived-in feeling about it. Cluttered and jam-packed. Severus blended in, like he was nothing more than a very dark bit of furniture. In fact, he was fairly certain Potter had not spotted him yet. Not that he was on tenter hooks awaiting the moment.

Potter had arrived to a great deal of fanfare and shouting twenty minutes prior. The surprise had been a success, judging by the man’s wide-eyed, slack-jawed, stumbling entrance. Severus jerked forward when it seemed Potter would drop Lily in his shock. Potter hadn’t, but Severus heart skipped a beat nonetheless.

Potter circled the room, accepting profuse greetings and well wishes from his friends and family, as James hopped along at his side, telling tales and gesturing wildly. Molly Weasley had snatched the two smaller Potters from their father’s clutches and deposited them here in the cordoned area by Severus. Albus toddled over to the edge of that baby prison.

The boy held a block out to Severus. “Block, please.”

Severus stacked it on the arm of the chair. “Thank you, Albus.”

Albus nodded and wandered back to his pile of toys.

Severus turned his gaze back to Potter. The bags beneath the man’s eyes, it turned out, were not reserved for the weekdays. Severus traced the blue-black circles; they contrasted so beautifully with his pale, porcelain skin. Potter scrubbed a hand over his rough, dark stubble and his tongue swiped across his chapped bottom lip and stuck in the corner, wiggling there as he listened half-heartedly to Neville Longbottom carry on and on and on. Probably about plants. A dull boy grown into a duller man.

Potter looked down at James and smiled. He placed a hand on his head, ruffled his hair, and sighed, his shoulders lifting and falling. His attention slid away from Neville and shifted around the room, his eyes darting over the crowd until they landed on Severus.

Severus’ heart jumped into his throat.

Potter smiled. No. He grinned at Severus.

Severus swallowed, forced his heart back into its rightful place and looked away.

Albus had returned. He held out another block for Severus. “Block.”

“Thank you.” Severus placed it on top of the other one on the arm of his chair. 

Severus inched his gaze, slowly, so slowly, back to Potter.

Potter had moved on to Bill and Fleur Weasley, a good seven or eight steps closer to Severus. Severus could hear bits and pieces of their conversation. Fleur spoke of someone named Gabrielle or Arielle. Potter nodded and glanced at Severus over Bill’s shoulder. His eyes were so bloody green. Deep and dark, like a forrest on a chill spring evening. Ridiculous.

James told the group a joke. One about a duck and a pepper imp. Severus had heard it already. Yesterday, in fact. And the day before that. And the day prior to that. James beamed as they all laughed, his eyes pulling back to his father over and over again, searching for approval. Potter rewarded him with a smile each time before finally running a hand through the boy’s messy hair.

“Block.”

Severus flinched. He turned to Albus and took the block. “Thank you, Albus.”

“Block.”

Albus had brought two this time. Very efficient of him. Severus plucked the second one from his fingers and stacked both on top of the others.

“Thank you.”

“Severus.” Potter, smiling and bouncing on his heels, and his tagalong stood in front of Severus. Potter buried his white teeth into his plush, pink bottom lip and pointed to the blocks. “I like your creation.”

Severus glanced at him and straightened his spine. “Yes, Albus and I have been hard at work.”

James eyed his brother and then the block tower.

“What is it, then?” Potter asked.

“Can’t you tell?”

One side of Potter’s mouth tugged up. “No.”

“It’s Grimmauld.”

“Of course, how did I not see it?”

“Because you are blind as a bat, Potter.”

James scowled at Severus and crossed his arms.

“Harry,” Potter said with a smile. “I must be not to recognize my own home.”

James’ lips pinched together and a small wrinkle creased the bridge of his nose in a very Potter-like way.

Severus said, “Happy Birthday, on any account.”

“Thanks for coming. I—”

Molly appeared from nowhere, a hand grasping at Potter’s shoulder and mouth flapping on about cake and candles. James gave Severus one last long look before they all disappeared into the chattering crowd.

“Block, please.”

Severus added it to the top of Grimmauld Place. “Thank you, Albus.”

**********

Severus had Lily propped against one shoulder as he patted her back and rubbed circles against it with his palm. The sun was high over the park and the air was warm and muggy. Albus whined against his other shoulder, the boy’s fingers digging into Severus’ skin, even through his button down, and his wet eyes leaving behind damp spots. Severus called on all of his patience.

“James.” Severus called and waited until the boy dutifully came to stand in front of him. “Take your brother with you.”

James nodded and reached out a hand. “Come on, Al. Play with me.”

“No.” Albus shook his head against Severus’ shoulder. “No, thank you.”

James shrugged and ran back to the group of children gathered around the slide.

Lily burped, a good, effective one, and Severus wiped her mouth. He gathered her in a nice forward-facing position, jostling Albus as he did so.

Albus scrubbed at his nose, at his eyes.

Lily squawked and flapped her hands.

“Albus, this is ridiculous. Go play.”

He shook his head, his bottom lip jutting forward in a wet pout.

“I won’t fight with you.”

Albus stood up on the bench. He clutched at Severus shoulder with one hand and faced the park. James shouted as he raced down the slide backward.

“That could be you, Albus.”

James tumbled arse over tit off the bottom of the slide. He landed in the pile of rubber scraps that filled the playground area. He popped right back up and laughed his way to the back of the queue. Albus’ eyes watched, wide, intent. He had a tear track striped down his right cheek.

Lily jerked her legs and bounced in Severus’ lap. Severus pressed his lips together and stood up. Albus keened and raised his hands.

“I’m holding your sister right now.”

The lip pushed forward again and trembled.

Severus adjusted Lily to one side and reached for Albus’ hand. He helped him step down from the bench and walked over to a much smaller slide than the one James was on. Another toddler climbed the stairs and went down. Severus waited for the child to clear away before he plunked Lily’s bottom on the top and swished her down the slide. She giggled and flapped all the way.

“See. It’s fun.” Severus’ lip curled. “Now, you go.”

Albus took a breath, glanced at Severus, and walked over to him. He buried his face against Severus’ knee and whined. Severus closed his eyes as his shoulders slumped, resigned.

**********

_Potions, Elixirs, Balms, Tinctures_

_Highest Quality_

_Fairly Priced_

_Rare and Custom-Made Requests Accepted_

_Send Owls to Master Severus Snape, Box 428, Hogsmeade Village_

**********

Severus twirled his fork into a pile of noodles. He did not look at Albus, smeared in Bolognese sauce from the tips of his toes to the top most tufts of his hair. The pasta he’d made was quite good and he didn’t want to be put off from it entirely. He looked at Potter instead.

“This is really good,” Potter said, maneuvering a bite into his mouth. His table manners were not so far above a toddler’s, but his lips turned a lovely shade of red from the tomato sauce. As though he’d been well-kissed.

Severus scowled and looked down at his food.

Potter hummed his further appreciation.

“I helped,” James said. “I putted the spaghetti in the pot.”

“Well done, Jamie.” Potter ruffled the boy’s hair and smiled. He met Severus’ eye and his smile faded. “I really, really appreciate you making dinner everyday, both of you.”

James beamed and dug back in.

Potter’s eyes lingered on Severus’ for another moment before he resumed eating.

When everyone finished, Potter scoured Albus with a cleaning charm and sent both boys upstairs. Severus floated the dishes to the sink, expecting Potter to follow behind his children as he always did. Instead, Severus turned to give the table a decent scrub and found himself face-to-face with Potter.

Potter flattened his hair and gnawed on his lip. Knowing the man was working up the courage to say something, Severus refrained from pointing out that he had a bit of sauce on his chin. Potter crossed his arms and said, finally, “I saw your ad this morning, in the paper.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. He’d not been keeping it from Potter, but neither had he expected to be confronted about it. “I can’t play nanny forever.”

“I know.” Potter huffed out a humorless laugh and looked away. He repeated, more quietly, “I know.”

Severus flicked his wand at the table and soapy bubbles sprung up.

Potter uncrossed his arms. “Are the wages alright?”

Severus tilted his head.

“I mean, are they fair?” Potter shifted from one foot to the other. “I wasn’t sure when I offered you, you know. I’ve never needed a nanny before.”

“They’re fine, Potter.”

He nodded, but his brow and the skin around his eyes creased into wrinkled.

“I’m a Potions Master.”

“Of course, yeah. So you’d want…” Potter pulled his bottom lip between his sharp left canines. He smiled at Severus, a small, twitchy thing, and said, “Makes sense, yes. You’d want to go back to that, yeah.”

Severus turned back to the sink and charmed the dishes to soak and wash.

Potter added, “Would you be able to stay overnight again next week? I have another overnight thing for work.”

Severus blinked down at the dishes and nodded.

**********

Thankfully, the Post Office in Hogsmeade forwarded all of Severus’ mail through to his Floo at Spinner’d End. The less time spent among the Wizarding masses the better, honestly. Severus was sat on his sofa, tea in hand, book hovering before him, when the first scroll shot out from his fireplace and landed on his coffee table. Severus stared at it, rolled up and innocuous. His toes curled against the carpet.

He placed his tea on the side table and let his book shut and drop to the carpet. He bent forward and snatched the scroll.

_Master Severus Snape, we submit the following order to your skillful hands._

Severus’ brow creased. He scanned the list. The rather extensive list.

Pepper Ups and Skele-gro.

Burn creams and balms for acne.

Sleeping draughts and headache potions.

And on and on and on. He wrinkled his nose and unfurled the entirety of the order.

_Time is not necessarily of the essence, though we would like to have these by the start of the new school year. We trust that this is well within your ability and look forward to placing ongoing orders for years to come._

_Most Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Severus sat back and pinched his lips together. He inhaled through his nostrils, and then exhaled. Not ideal, but a good enough start. And the pay was generous without being insultingly charitable.He lifted a single eyebrow and let one side of his mouth tug upwards.

**********

Potter handed Lily over to Severus. “Al has a checkup today for jabs and such.”

Severus looped his arm under Lily’s bottom. Her hands clutched at his collar and she turned her head to watch Potter pour coffee into a thermos.

“I’ll come home after lunch to grab him and head to the pediatrician’s. Is that alright?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want to interrupt your routine or anything.”

“They are you children, Potter. If you must take one away, so be it.”

Potter chuckled. “Right. Yeah, of course.”

Potter scrubbed at his eyes underneath his glasses, making them wobble precariously off his ears, then he swept the hand up into hair. He looked like he’d stuck his finger in a socket.

Severus said, “I could take Albus for you.”

“What? No.” Potter ran his tongue across his bottom lip. It glistened and shone. “No, I can do it. I just need to move some things around at work.”

“Your robes are mis-buttoned.”

Potter’s eyebrows drew together and he looked down. “Oh, geez.” He placed his thermos on the table and unbuttoned his robe, starting at the top and working his way down to the bunched up gap over his lower belly. The vest he wore beneath was indecently tight.

Severus watched the descent of Potter’s fingers in its entirety and was left slightly breathless.

He looked askance at Lily, her fingers shoved in her grinning mouth. She giggled and he shushed her.

Potter said, “I wouldn’t want you to have to lug all three of them out alone.”

Severus shrugged. “I do it quite regularly. It’s not such a hardship.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh.” Potter smoothed a hand down the front of robes. “You are a godsend, Severus. Truly.”

Severus pulled Lily’s hand from his own buttons.

Potter scratched at an eyebrow and chuckled. “Are you sure you can’t stay around forever?”

“I received my first order yesterday. A rather large one, in fact. It is unlikely that forever will be happening.”

Potter’s shoulders slumped. Severus ignored the warmth permeating his gut at the sight of it.

Potter’s body lifted, as if pulled by invisible strings. He smiled, he bounced on the heels of his substantial Auror boots, he clapped his hands together once. “That is so absolutely fantastic! I am so happy for you!” Potter swallowed and grimaced. He looked at James. “Isn’t that fantastic, Jamie? Severus is making potions!”

James’s spoon paused in its journey to his mouth. His brow creased. “Here?”

“No.” Potter gnawed on his lower lip. “No, not here, I suppose.”

“Most definitely not,” Severus added.

Potter nodded, and nodded some more. “We should celebrate. I’ll pick up some wine to go with dinner, yeah?”

Severus smirked. “If you wish.”

“I do.” Potter’s smile lifted and crumbled. “Right. I’m proud of you.”

Severus’ cheeks went hot and his face contorted into something like alarm.

Potter rushed to continue, his eyes wide. “I-I just mean because you are doing what you love, like. Oh my god.” He shook his head. “I’m only happy for you.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and picked up his thermos. “Well. I’m off, I guess.”

Severus cleared his throat. “If you could you just jot down where and when for Albus, for the jabs?”

Potter pressed his lips together and nodded.

**********

“This is a weird sauce.” Potter twirled the pasta round and round a fork. “It’s green.”

Severus cut into his noodles and scooped a reasonable bite onto the tines.

“Is it supposed to be this color? Is it some kind of Slytherin speciality?”

Severus narrowed his eyes and stared at the pesto lining Potter’s lower lip.

Potter chewed and swallowed. He pointed his fork at Albus. “The kids seem to like it.”

Albus pinched a noodle between his thumb and pointer finger. He lifted it to his mouth and shoved it in. The two ends of the noodle strand dangled from the corners of his mouth. Severus’ current cookbook had an extensive pasta section. Severus found he rather liked pasta, and it was easy for James to help him prepare it and James always insisted he help prepare dinner. Severus would have Albus select a toy to bring down to the kitchen, he had a swing set up in the corner that he could place Lily in, and they all passed late afternoons together cooking. It was nauseatingly parental and domestic.

Although, certain potioneering skills easily translated to cooking, and Severus took the opportunity to prepare James for Hogwarts in a way that his father could never have even dreamed. Severus had James dicing, mincing, and chopping. Measuring, stirring, and folding. 

“Severus,” Potter said. “You’ll never believe who I arrested today.”

Severus lifted one questioning eyebrow.

“Blasie Zabini.”

Hm. Potter was correct; he hadn’t expected that. “What for?”

“He helped his mum get rid of the body of her last husband.”

Severus scoffed and dropped his fork. He picked up his wine glass. “I hope you arrested her as well.”

James dug his fork into his pasta, scraping at the plate beneath. He glared at Severus with pursed little lips and squinty eyes. Severus’ brow gathered and his lip curled with bemusement.

“Of course. Naturally,” Potter continued, oblivious, “She’s getting sloppy in her old age.”

“It speaks well of her skill that it took so long for your lot to catch her, or, I suppose, it could be that it speaks poorly of your Aurors.”

James huffed a breath through his nostrils. Severus gave James an arched eyebrow and returned his attention to Potter. Potter smirked down at his plate and spun another bite of pasta onto his fork.

“You’ve a little something,” Severus pointed to Potter’s lip, “right there.”

Potter’s tongue darted out of his mouth and prodded along his bottom lip.

Severus watched and a smirk bloomed. “That is decidedly not helping.”

“He’s fine.” James stared hard at Severus then sprung from his chair and raced over to the counter. “I’ll gets you a napkin, dad.”

Potter, head down, swiped at his lip with a finger. He glanced up at Severus through his lashes and took the napkin from James. “Thanks, Jamie.”

James smiled and pulled himself back up into his seat.

Severus drummed his fingers on the table and eyed James. He shifted his gaze to Potter then to James then back to Potter. He hummed into his glass and took a sip.

**********

Later that week, Potter returned to the kitchen while Severus was still drying the dishes. Either Severus was slow tonight or Potter was quick. Though nothing about Potter looked like it could move particularly fast at the moment. His shoulders slumped in an almost comical way. He stretched his neck left then right, scrubbed a hand over the tight muscles that connected his head to his shoulders. Those bruises under his eyes looked far puffier and bluer than they had just yesterday.

“You look dead on your feet, Potter.”

The man flinched. Severus turned back to the sink and admonished himself by biting his tongue. Not that he’d hurt the man’s feeling, of course not, but that he’d brought it up at all. It felt distinctly not his place. Not to mention the never-acknowledged elephant in the room: Potter’s widowhood. A chair creaked behind him with Potter’s weight.

“There’s mail there,” Severus said, shaking off the moment and tilting his head to the corridor. “Out on the hallway table.”

It was from St. Mungo’s and it had arrived just after lunch. The parchment was golden and it was cinched shut with a purple ribbon. Potter returned with it in hand. His brow furrowed as he read it. “It’s an invitation to a charity ball for St. Mungo’s Children’s Ward.”

Severus floated the dishes back into the cabinet where they belonged. He returned his wand to his sleeve and watched Potter stare down at the invite. The man’s thumbs rubbed at the edges of the parchment and he pulled his bottom lip so far into his mouth and between his teeth that it disappeared entirely. A sigh escaped his lips, shaky and broken.

“Perhaps,” Severus began. “Perhaps, you should decline the invitation and take a nap instead.”

Potter gave a weak chuckle. “Who has time for a nap?”

“You should make time.” Severus pursed his lips. His logical mind waved its hands in warning. “You look absolutely wretched, Potter. As though you haven’t slept in months.”

Potter’s Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. He looked at Severus and then away. “I’m fine, really.” He inhaled a substantial breath. He held out the invitation. “Severus, could you watch the kids for me on this day?”

Severus crossed his arms. “Of course, I will watch them, if you require. However, I strongly recommend you use this time to do something other than traipse around a ballroom.”

“This is a good cause, Severus.”

“And your health and well-being is not?”

Potter shook his head and tossed the parchment to the table.

Severus took a step forward, completely ignoring the alarm bells ringing inside his skull. “What happens when you hesitate, lose focus on the job, and wind up dead at the end of some low-life’s wand? What will James, Albus, and Lily do then? Is orphanhood something you’d hoped to pass down along with your bloody unruly hair?”

Potter’s jaw clenched and shifted, grinding his teeth. His hands shook as they clenched into fists at his sides. He stared Severus down, eyes turning hard and unflinching. “You are overstepping, Snape.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” Potter hissed.

Those green eyes burned and sparked and the boy looked more alive than he had in ages. It kindled a fire in Severus’ gut. Heat raced from his core, up and down his limbs, blazing to the tips of his fingers and toes. They curled into fists. Severus’ nostrils flared. He grabbed the invitation off the table. He glanced at the date, marking it in his memory. He shoved the parchment into Potter’s chest and left Grimmauld Place.

**********

Severus stacked a pile of nettles, keeping the ends even and their lines straight. He chopped them precisely, then used the knife blade to move them over to one corner of his cutting board. He pulled over his small basket of elderberries, picked fresh that morning with his own hands. He mashed a handful in his new stone mortar, carefully scrapping the flesh and juice from the sides with his pestle.

His fourth potions order had come from Potter.

Severus had the sneaking suspicion it was placed out of guilt or remorse over their confrontation. He didn’t delude himself into imagining Potter supported his push towards independence— independence far away from the messy chaos of Potter’s family life. Potter may not have appreciated Severus’ meddling comments, but he needed Severus’ presence in his home.

Severus had returned to work the day after their disagreement to a flushed and jovial Potter. Pepper Up. A healthy dose timed prior to Severus’ arrival. Potter’s judgment was truly compromised if he thought Severus Snape, Potions Master, wouldn’t suss out that strategy in an instant. If Potter wanted to run himself into the ground, if he wanted to slowly kill himself, who was Severus to stop him?

Severus had allowed him delusion, left him to his own devices, and continued about his day tending to the true children of the house. Then, he’d come home to Spinner’s End to find the parchment on his coffee table. Potter had ordered a basic supply of home remedies: burn paste, calming draughts, pepper up, and fever draughts (what he was currently working).

He placed his cauldron over the flame and added a bit of water. He waited for it to warm and scooped in the elderberry mash. Five minutes and he scattered the nettles across the top. Severus picked up his stirring rod and mixed them into the red-purple brew. He watched the potion bubble and churn. His pulse thumped out with the steady pace of his stirring.

Severus had brewed for the Dark Lord and for Albus Dumbledore. He’d brewed potions that killed enemies. Potions that elongated Albus’ life. Potions that protected, maimed, and saved, both the innocent and the wicked, but this potion felt like the most important he’d ever made.

He’d likely administer it himself, to Lily, Albus, James. Harry. When they were ill or hurt. He’d provide comfort and healing when they needed it most.

Of all of the ridiculous things, he was nervous.

Over a fever draught.

His grip around the rod tightened. He sniffed and cleared his throat of nothing at all.

**********

Grimmauld Place had a garden. The smallest garden in London, surely. Its dimensions not much larger than those of Severus’ bedroom on Spinner’s End. It was green though, and well-tended. Did Potter ever rest?

He and the children only utilized it in the most dire circumstances. When Lily was too fussy for the journey to the park. When the weather was threatening, but not yet hostile. And like today, when Albus took the rare afternoon nap.

Severus sat on the back steps, Lily in his lap, as James fought sea monsters with a cardboard sword, a tricorn hat balanced on his ears.

Lily babbled nonsense and bounced her nappy-covered bum against Severus’ thighs. Severus pulled her to her feet, one balanced on each of his thighs. He took her hands and she wobbled but stayed upright. She gave him a wet, gummy grin and dug her heels in. Severus grunted at the sharp points stabbing into his flesh through his trousers, but smirked at her in return.

“Hello, you lot.”

Severus jumped. His head swung around as James shouted, “Dad! Dad! Dad!”

James dashed across the small space, his hat flying off behind him, and launched himself at Potter’s legs. Potter stumbled back, but chuckled. He ran a hand through James’ messy hair. “What are you guys doing out here?”

“Getting some air,” Severus said.

“Bein’ a pirate,” James pushed his chin into Potter’s knee and looked up. “Come play with me, Dad, please.”

“Alright, but I don’t know much about being a pirate.”

Potter unclasped his red Auror robes. He shrugged his shoulders and let the garment drop into his hands. He had on a skin-tight, white vest again. The lines of a lean, lightly muscled chest and stomach were visible. The peak of a pebbled nipple, the shadow of two small, pink areolas. Potter turned to drape his robes over the railing and Severus had a pleasant view of Potter pert, little arse in his tight black trousers.

“Potter.” Severus snapped. He cleared his throat and started over, “Potter, you’ll need a sword.”

Potter grinned and dashed back into the house. James stood in the center of the garden and pouted up at the door. He turned a glare at Severus. Severus gave him a bemused look back.

Potter reemerged. Lily squealed and bounced. James also squealed and bounced. In one hand Potter wielded a sword that suspiciously resembled Severus’ favorite spatula, and in the other hand, he clutched his broom in a tight fist.

Potter swung a leg over the broom and rose into the air. The yard was too small for a great deal of maneuvering. Potter flew a low circle around James. Their swords knocked against one another as they shouted pirate phrases at each other.

Severus turned Lily around so she could watch more easily. Her chubby legs gave out in her excitement and she fell back against Severus’ shoulder. Severus touched his cheek to her temple, briefly, the soft hair catching in his afternoon stubble. He shifted her back down to a seated position so they could watch the game.

Potter, grinning like a loon, swooped down and grabbed James from the ground. He pulled him up onto the broom, much to the boy’s delight. He growled and pretended to nip at the boy’s ears. James waved his sword around and laughed himself red and hoarse.

Potter placed James back on the ground and looked up. His eyes met Severus’ and Severus couldn’t have stopped the uptick of the corners of his mouth. Potter’s smile grew and he turned his broom skyward and climbed. Severus watched him and something warm sparked in his chest and caught fire.

**********

Albus flipped the page of his book. They were, once again, reading through the caterpillar’s weeklong eating binge.

Severus read, “On Thursday he ate through four strawberries, but he was still hungry.”

“Staw-berry.”

“On Friday he ate through five oranges, but he was still hungry.”

“Still hungwy.”

“Hungry.” Severus glanced up at Lily. She laid on her belly in front of them. She pushed up on her hands and dropped back down. She stretched her limbs out like she was flying.

Albus turned the page.

“On Saturday he ate through one piece of chocolate cake, one ice cream cone—”

“Can we have ice cream after lunch?” James asked.

“No,” Severus answered.

Albus shook his head. “No.”

Severus smirked. “One pickle, one slice of Swiss cheese, one slice of salami…”

“Sa-mee.”

“Salami.”

Severus’ eyes went to Lily again. She pushed up on her hands, wiggled her legs, and pushed up onto her knees. Severus lifted an eyebrow. Lily rocked back and forth, back and forth. She lifted a hand and shuffled it forward. She lifted the other…collapsed.

Severus harrumphed and his mouth pulled up into a half-smile. “Did you see that?”

“See what?” James asked.

“Lily tried to crawl.”

James nodded and pushed a green train along a circle of wooden tracks.

Well, Severus was impressed.

**********

“Lily attempted to crawl today.”

“What?” Potter grinned and clapped his hands together once. “That’s amazing.”

Severus nodded, pleased. He dug his fork into his pie. He and James made a pie that morning. It was raining, and Severus found a nice recipe for a cherry one in the back of his cookbook. Also, if that wretched caterpillar could eat pie, so could he.

Potter smiled and picked up his fork. “I can’t believe I missed it.”

“She hasn’t actually started yet. She rocked around a bit and moved her hands forward, then fell.” Severus shook his head. It was ridiculous that he was trying to reassure Potter, but he continued, “Perhaps, this weekend.”

Something in Severus snarled, hating the idea of missing it himself then hating that he felt anyway about it at all.

“Yeah, maybe.” Potter nodded and took a bite.

Severus rhythmically tapped his fork against his plate. “Do most children start crawling at five months?”

“Um,” Potter licked red juice from the corner of his mouth. “It’s a little early, I think. I know Jamie didn’t crawl or walk or anything for awhile.”

James made a little moue of disappointment.

Potter continued, “Al seemed to get going earlier.”

Severus hummed.

“I can’t remember though, exactly. I mean,” Potter looked down at his plate, “Gi—It was probably written down. There’s baby books and things, somewhere.”

Potter picked at the last few bites of his pie. A deep line formed between his eyes. James stilled and watched him, then he turned narrowed eyes on Severus. Severus returned them.

Potter shook his head and dropped his fork to his plate. He scratched at an eyebrow and stood. He grabbed his plate and carried it to the counter. Pie only half-eaten.

**********

Severus slid Albus into his highchair and clicked him securely into place. James came behind him and handed the boy a spoon and a napkin. Severus placed a cheese toastie on a blue plastic plate. He used his wand to cut it into four small squares. He passed it off to James, who then passed it up to Albus. Severus placed a cheese toastie on a green plastic plate and used his wand to cut it into two triangles. He passed it off to James, who took it and sat down. Severus ladled tomato soup into three bowls and floated them over to the table. He placed his own toastie (cheese, ham, tomato, and a bit of mustard) on a pink plastic plate and turned to sit down with the boys. Potter could serve himself whenever he bother to showed.

“Can we go to the park tomorrow?” James asked.

Severus tilted his head. “I suppose.”

James nodded. “Severus, do you have kids?”

“No.”

“Who do you live with?”

“I live alone.”

“Oh.” James took a bite of his toastie. “Does that make you sad?”

“Not at all.”

“I’d be sad if I was alone.”

“That’s because you can’t reach the top shelf of the pantry.”

James snorted a laugh.

The floo whooshed in the sitting room and they all turned to watch Potter descend the stairs and enter the kitchen. It took him much longer than usual, and when he finally graced the doorway, it was quite easy to see why.

His hairline was stained red and clumped together with blood and sweat and Merlin knew what else. It tracked down his temple and over his cheek. It smeared across the underside of his left eye. His nostril was ringed in blood and his nose was purple and swollen. He had an abrasion on his right cheek, as though his face had been scrapped across the pavement. His shoulders stooped and he clutched his hips as he ambled into the room in torn robes. His glasses were absent entirely.

“Hello,” he said, cheerily.

Severus sat back. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Severus, language.” Potter limped to his chair and fell into it.

Severus stood. His wand fell into his hand as he rounded the table to stand over Potter. His pulse pounded through his veins, the edges of his vision went black and then red. Severus tilted Potter’s head up, making the man wince.

“I already healed my nose,” Potter said. “And the head wound.”

Severus ran the tip of his wand down the discolored ridge of Potter’s nose. Potter flinched as bits clicked back in place and a fresh trickle of blood flowed from his nostrils.

Potter sniffed and wiped his nose. He recoiled at the sight of the blood. “Not well, evidently.”

Severus moved onto Potter’s hairline.

James clamored into the chair next to his father. He fisted his hands into Potter’s robes. His eyes were wild and frantic. He whispered a hushed, “Dad,” and Severus wanted to murder someone.

“I’m fine, Jamie.”

A thin pink line of newly healed skin was buried beneath Potter’s dark bird’s nest. Severus scourgified the blood from Potter’s ridiculously soft hair. From his forehead, his temple, his cheek, his nostril. He ghosted a thumb over the abraded cheek. He would need bruise paste.

He met Potter’s green eyes. The blue-purple bruises beneath them glared at Severus and of his murderous rage turned inward. How could he let this happen? Potter had been exhausted for weeks, months. He was in no condition to fight for his life. He couldn’t fend off a flea let alone a trained dark wizard. Severus had shrugged and let him flutter off in his red robes everyday anyway, as if he didn’t _know_ this would happen.

“Dad,” James touched Potter’s cheek, his nose. “Dad?”

“I’m fine, James. I promise. The bad guy fought back a little more than I expected this time, yeah?” Potter smiled. “But I’m absolutely fine.”

What if it hadn’t been fine? What if it had been worse? Infinitely worse? What would happen to James, Albus, and Lily? Would they end up lost in the miasma of the Weasley family? Burdens passed from one relative to the next for the rest of time?

“Go to bed.”

Potter and James’ heads snapped to Severus.

“You, Potter. Go, now. Go to bed.”

Potter’s mouth fell open. He closed it, swallowed. He smirked. “Without dinner?”

“Shut up. Go.”

Severus grabbed James. Cradled him against his hip, held him close. He looked past Potter’s bloody, broken face and pointed to the door. Potter laughed, quick and breathy, but he stood. He glanced back once and left the room, trudging back up the stairs.

James and Albus weren’t much in the mood to finish dinner. Neither was Severus. They abandoned their plates where they sat on the table and moved onto their bedtime routine. Severus monitored bathtime, he combed their hair, made sure they brushed their tiny little teeth. He put Albus to bed with a book. He flipped off the boy’s lights and crossed the hall to James.

“I don’t want a book.” James huddled beneath his quilt.

Severus nodded. He didn’t much fancy staying longer than he had to. He also wanted nothing more than to stay, to stand guard and protect, to yell at stupid Harry bloody Potter. His insides churned and roiled and yearned for the placid safety of Spinner’s End.

He walked over and tucked the blanket around James, not bothering to reach for the lamp.

“Goodnight, James.”

“Will mum come home now?”

Severus’ blood turned cold in his veins. He stared down at James Potter. His small, round face, so much like his father’s. Not hiding a single emotion, wearing his heart right there on his sleeve for all to see. James had not once mentioned his mother, in the weeks and months since her death.

James fiddled with the edge of his quilt. “Since dad is hurt.”

Severus inclined his head, the skin around his eyes tightening. His heart raced liked a rabbit in his chest.

“Now that dad is hurt and all. Will she come home?”

Severus crossed his arms, at a complete loss for words. He met James’ bright, brown eyes. Not Harry’s eyes, not Lily’s. Ginevra’s. James’ own.

Severus opened his mouth, closed it. “How—how would your mother return home?”

James shook his head, his hair gathering in clumps against his pillow. “She leaves sometimes, but she always comes back.”

His eyelids fluttered. “Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. With Uncle Ron, maybe. Sometimes, she goes to Auntie Luna’s.”

“Your mother leaves often?”

James nodded.

Potter. Beautiful, disastrous Potter. He never mentioned his dead wife either.

But surely…there was a funeral. James had been there.

His heart clenched. He glanced up at the ceiling.

“Will she come home now?”

Severus pressed his lips together, he rolled them between his teeth, and bit down.

Potter’s life was chaos. Every part of it. Nothing the infuriating brat ever did wasn’t fraught with calamity and misery. And, once again, Severus had wound up knee-deep in the muck with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to the books mentioned and quoted above: Tolkien’s The Hobbit, Margaret Wise Brown’s Goodnight Moon, and, of course, Severus and Albus’ favorite, Eric Carle’s The Very Hungry Caterpillar.


	3. Chapter Three

“James believes his mother is on holiday.”

Minerva stilled, grunted out a humming noise from the back of her throat, and then brought her tea cup to her lips for a sip.

Severus pinched a ginger nut between his thumb and forefinger and lifted it from the platter. “He said he thought she was staying with the Lovegood twit all this time, or that she’d squirreled herself away with the youngest Weasley boy.” Well, _now_ , the youngest Weasley. “He said she does…did it quite often.”

“Did she?”

“I’ve no idea.” Severus shot an accusatory look her way. “Why on earth would I know?”

Minerva shrugged, unphased. “I don’t know. You tend to know things. Especially about Harry.”

“I knew absolutely nothing of the boy’s marriage. Which is another thing…no one in that home ever talks about Ginevra. There are hardly any pictures. It’s like she never existed at all.”

Minerva’s brow wrinkled. “Well, I am sure it is difficult to talk about. Even more so, with you.”

“What does that mean?”

“You are not the most warm and welcoming man, Severus.”

Severus’ lip curled.

Minerva shook her head and shifted in her chair. “No. You must be mistaken. Surely, Harry has spoken with James. The boy must know that his mother has passed. It’s been months.”

“You are giving Potter far too much credit.”

“He’s a wonderful father.”

“He is an absolute disaster.”

“He loves those children.”

“I never implied he did not. Nonetheless…”

Minerva set her tea cup down and laced her fingers together on her desk. “Then you must speak with Harry.”

Severus clicked his tongue against his front teeth and looked away.

“You must proceed delicately,” Minerva informed him, as if he had the sense of a troll. “Harry and Ginevra had been together since they were children. His grief must be tremendous.”

If it was, the boy kept it well hidden. Severus had been privy to the many forms of other’s mourning, he’d been privy to _Potter’s_ form of mourning. Potter wore it, hot and angry, beside the heart on his sleeve. Something weighed Potter down, but Severus was not precisely sure the burden was made entirely of grief. Severus had no desire to help Potter poke at it, whatever it was.

How had Severus even arrived at this place? How had something so outside of his purview fallen to him? Molly Weasley. Hermione Granger. They were better equipped for this mission. Perhaps…perhaps he could leave. Simply, quit. Potter had paid him enough already. He’d tucked a bit away. Enough hold him over until his potions business took off or something else came along.

Severus bit the inside of his cheek. His toes curled in his shoes. His mind conjured images to drive him mad: Lily’s stupid gummy grin and the soft fuzz of red hair on her little head, Albus and his colorful blocks and ridiculous caterpillar book, James, the annoying ham, always trying to please his brat of a father. Harry Potter. Harry bloody Potter. His bird’s nest of hair and his dumb glasses. So recklessly brave and loyal and passionate.

Severus was many things.

A coward was not one of them.

He closed his eyes and shoved another biscuit into his mouth.

**********

The kitchen smelled of coffee and toast.

Albus waved half a banana in Severus’ direction. James took an aggressive bite of his Honey Loops. Lily fussed in her bouncy pink contraption in the corner. Severus scooped her up and pressed her against his shoulder. His hand spanned the entirety of her soft, cotton-covered shoulder blades. Potter dithered by the sink and watched them with shifting eyes.

“Severus.”

“Potter.”

Potter’s eyebrows pinched together, forming a wrinkled line above his nose. He clutched at a thermos of coffee. His fingers flexed and twitched against the metal.

Lily turned her head, nestled it against Severus’ cheek, and drooled along his jawline.

Potter bit his lip and took a breath. “Can I talk to out in the hall for a moment?”

Severus shared a narrow-eyed look with James before leaving the room, trailed by Potter.

After they were out of earshot, Potter began with a fortifying huff of breath. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. Because I am. Sorry, I mean.” Potter closed his eyes and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have shown up bloody like that. I should have thought it through. I don’t want the kids to see me like that. They shouldn’t see me like that. I should protect them from what I do outside of here.”

Severus rubbed Lily’s back, slowly. She’d twisted her body to look at Potter as he spoke. “James…” Severus ran his tongue along the sharp points of his front teeth. “Your son led me to believe this was not a first, but a habit.”

Potter shook his head and looked away. He opened his mouth, shut it. “It was only a few times. I didn’t think he’d be old enough to remember.”

Severus lifted one eyebrow. “He remembers.”

“Ah. Well. Gi—” Potter pressed his lips together and curled them inward until they disappeared. His shoulders bowed forward and he looked down at his feet.

This. This is the hero of Wizarding Britain. Pathetic. Broken. Small. Justifying his actions with downcast eyes, pleading for forgiveness and understanding from someone he’d spent most of his life loathing. Severus tilted his head. He couldn’t look away. There was something poetic about Potter slowly destroying himself. Poisoning everything around him as he tried to be everything for everyone. Burning himself up from the inside and still failing.

Unacceptable, of course. Poetic, but untenable. After everything Severus’d done to get him to adulthood. Wholly and entirely unacceptable.

“I accept.”

Potter’s head whipped up, his eyes wide. “What?”

“I accept your apology.” Severus shrugged. “Unnecessary as it was. After all, it was not I that you wronged. Traumatized. Frightened.”

“Okay, okay. Yeah.” Potter oscillated from foot to foot. Lily babbled in response and Potter brightened. He smiled, his eyes sparkled. He pushed a hand into his ridiculous hair and licked his pink, chapped lips. “I have to go.” Potter took Lily’s hand, squeezed its chubbiness, and shook it. “I’m going to be late.”

Potter returned to the kitchen for his thermos of coffee and to kiss his other children goodbye. He pressed a kiss to Lily’s temple, and his stupid hair tickled Severus’ nose as he leaned in close. He smelled of lavender and grass and toast. Severus turned his head to keep from sneezing. Potter looked at him a long moment before finally leaving.

**********

James stuck a chocolate chip into his mouth.

“If you eat all of the ingredients, we won’t be able to complete the biscuits.”

“It was just one,” he said, but he put back the other ones he’d pinched between sticky fingers. Severus cringed as he watched them tumble back into the pile and mix with the untouched ones. He took solace in knowing the heat of the oven would burn off whatever germs the child may have added to their dough. 

“Here.” Severus handed the mixing spoon to James and pushed the bowl over in front of him. “Slowly, carefully.”

“I know.”

And he did. James quite frequently aided Severus in the kitchen. Often he initiated the cooking sessions himself, gathering the ingredients and the equipment while Severus settled Lily in for a nap. He’d even pile blocks and books in a corner to keep Albus entertained while they worked. All Severus supplied was the recipe and the supervision.

Severus drummed all of his fingers against the counter thrice. “Did you used to bake with your mother, James?”

“Jamie.” James didn’t look up from his task. “Yes.”

“What did you make?”

“All kinds a stuff. Pie and biscuits. Cakes. And dinner too. Like soups and things.”

“She was making you into a proper chef.”

“Mummy says boys should be able to takes care of themselves.”

“That is very good advice.”

James nodded, absently, and lifted the spoon from the bowl. “Done. Can I lick it now?”

“After we place the pan in the oven.”

**********

Severus cradled his coffee mug with both hands and gazed across the kitchen table. Harry Potter was beautiful. Objectively beautiful. In a wild, chaotic, untamed sort of way. His hair a tangled mop atop a perfectly symmetrical, proportioned face. The pink slash of scar tissue across his forehead edged him just over to the wondrous side of imperfect, marked him as brave, as a survivor. Bright white teeth peeked out from behind pink, full, though horribly chapped, lips. Sparkling green eyes. Darker, heavier than Lily Evans’ ever were. Hidden away behind ridiculous old-fashioned spectacles. Long, lanky limbs corded with muscle and glowing with hidden power and strength, though he moved through the world in a gambling, foal-like way. He smelled of the outdoors, of wild lavender and sun-warmed grass, a tumult of air and earth.

“The Charity Ball is this month.”

And when he opened his mouth, the most moronic things fell from it in such a melodious voice.

“I thought we agreed you’d be napping instead.”

Potter hummed. “Don’t think we did, no.”

“We did. You may have forgotten.” Severus blew across the surface of his coffee. “You sustained a head injury quite recently.”

Potter huffed a laugh through his nose.

Severus sipped from his mug. “You must have further addled your already addled mind.”

James slammed his juice cup down, pulling Severus’ focus over to the boy’s squinty, pinch-lipped expression. Severus returned it and then looked back at Potter, catching him just as he looked down to study his butter-soaked toast.

Potter tapped the crusted edge against his plate. “I know you usually have the weekends off, but you said you would before, will you still?”

Severus sucked on his canine. “If you feel you must.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you feel you must?”

“I always go.”

“So.”

“So…I always go.”

“Your wife just—” Severus cut himself off as Potter stiffened and closed his eyes, as if preparing for a knock upside the head. Severus pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down. Restraint might be a better approach. Dip his toe in the water of Potter’s madness before diving in headfirst. “This year is notably different, Potter, and you were injured recently.”

“I’m fine.” Potter curled his hands into tight, little fists. He met Severus’ gaze. “I feel absolutely fine, Snape.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Severus put his mug down and picked a banana out of the fruit bowl.

“Nana, please,” Albus piped in as Severus yanked the peel away.

Severus broke the banana in half and, with Potter’s eyes following, handed the top to Albus. Severs asked, “Are you not as tired as you look then?”

“I always look this way, ta very much.”

Severus took a bite from the other half and shrugged.

Potter tilted his head. “What does it matter? I’ll pay you overtime, like always, and the kids will be asleep most of the time anyway.” Potter shot a shaky smirk his way. “Not very Slytherin of you not to take me up on the offer.”

Severus clicked his tongue.

“It’s a ball, Snape, not a battle.”

“Are the two so different?”

Potter scoffed and his brow creased. “Usually, yes.”

Severus hummed and popped the last of his breakfast into his mouth, banishing the peel to the bin.

Potter sighed and pushed his hands under his glasses to scrub at his droopy, tired eyes. “I gotta get to work.” He stood, tapped the tips of fingers against the tabletop. “You’ll watch them?”

Severus looked at the self-made martyr, rolled his eyes, and nodded.

**********

It seemed that Potter did, in fact, _always look this way_. Severus flipped to the next page in the photo album laid out on the floor in front of him. Albus stuck a pudgy finger over Potter’s face and declared, “Da.”

“Indeed. Well done, Albus.”

Severus had found the album in the downstairs sitting room. It wasn’t accidental. He’d had to hunt for it. James, Albus, and Lily were no help at all when he’d asked if their parents kept pictures anywhere. Severus had had to resort to snooping about Potter’s home. He’d finally found three leather-bound albums tucked away on the bottom shelf of a bookcase. Well… _bookcase._ The Potters used it to store knickknacks and various dust-catching tchotchkes.

Was he meant to be dusting as well as rearing Potter’s children…?

He’d think on that later.

Severus had settled cross-legged on the floor, Albus in his lap and James nearby battling the sofa with his plastic sword, and dove into the Potters’ family memories.

Birthdays, Christmases, tiny babies with black tufts of soft hair dressed in all manner of overwrought things, Potter on a broomstick and Ginevra with a toddler on her hip, Granger and Weasley bright-eyed at Rosmerta’s, Potter in his red robes, James dressed as a pirate, and on and on and on.

Conspicuous by its absence were pictures of the Potters as a couple.

No pictures of their faces smashed together. No arms thrown around a slender waist. Temple to temple with easy smiles and shining eyes. In the few pictures that contained the both of them, a child or two was often hanging off of someone or running about underfoot. Their expressions looked tight and forced, annoyed.

And Potter looked exhausted, run down in every. single. one. Going years back. Potter looked pale and wane. The skin beneath his eyes bruised purple and the whites marred with red lines.

“Mummy.”

James dropped his sword and walked over to look down at the picture Albus now had his finger on. Ginevra, obviously pregnant, sat in front of a Christmas tree in this very room. A Santa hat clashed with the red of her hair, but her mouth spilt in a wide grin. James had his spindly arms around her neck and Albus was nestled in her lap, much as he was presently doing in Severus’, as the picture cycled through them all pressing together for the picture.

Objectively, a lovely picture. A pity to have it wallowing away in this album.

Severus asked James, “How would you like to frame this for your bedroom upstairs?”

James looked at him out of the side of his eyes, then back down at the picture. “Yes, please.”

**********

James and Albus (and possibly Severus, though he’d deny it to his dying day) enjoyed a couple of lemon ice lollies in the garden. Severus transfigured the resulting sticks into an acceptable frame. James stuck the picture inside of it and placed it on his bedside table, right beneath the overused lamp. They stood looking at it now, illuminated in the bulb’s yellow glow.

“Have you always feared the dark?”

James’ brow wrinkled up. “I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m not a baby.”

“I never said you were.”

James pulled his bottom lip between his small teeth and chewed.

“I’m afraid of the dark, if you must know.” Severus crossed his arms. “Would you say I was a baby?”

James chuckled, snorting the laugh through his nose (in a way very reminiscent of his father), and looked up at him. “No.”

“Terrible things sometimes happen in the dark.” As Severus continued, James’ expression sobered. Severus chose his words carefully, wanting to only brush the surface of whatever trauma (if any) James had tied to the darkness. “It’s harder to make sense of what is happening when you cannot see the danger.”

James didn’t blink, but his knobby shoulders rounded forward. He shifted on his feet. “I might sometimes be afraid.”

“Understandable.”

James reached out a hand and touched his quilt, plucking at a thread with his fingers.

“When I was your age,” Severus said, “sometimes we had no lights at all. We were quite poor and…” Severus cleared his throat. “My mother was a witch though, and she would magic a small ball of blue light to hover in my room. Just here, over my head, while I slept.”

James smiled, then frowned. “Does she not do that anymore?”

“No. My mother died.”

“Oh.” James’ face took on a thoughtful expression. Severus watched and waited, patiently, for James’ next words. “Did your dad make light for you?”

“No. He didn’t know how, nor would he have been so inclined if he could.”

“Oh.”

“Your father is much kinder than mine ever was. Perhaps, tonight, instead of the lamp, you could ask him to make a ball of light for you.”

James looked away from Severus, to the picture on his bedside table.

**********

The next day Severus was back in Potter’s sitting room. Alone. Reading a book from the Black Library—Severus had found the collection’s new home in the basement whilst searching for the photographs of the Potter family. The children were all tucked snug in their beds upstairs, and had been for over an hour, and Harry Potter had yet to show himself.

Severus flipped a page. As it settled, he cradled his chin in his palm and studied the illustration of a long extinct flower. He didn’t so much as flinch when the fireplace flared to life across the room and the boy hero tumbled out.

“Seve—”

“Fifth time this month, Potter.” Severus casually turned the page, not looking up. “And it is only the twelfth.”

“I know. I—”

“Dinner is under a warming charm on the table.”

Potter huffed. “Brilliant. Thank you.”

“You pay for the care and upkeep of the Potter children.” Severus glanced up through his lashes, looked Potter up and down. “All of them.”

He pursed his lips. “It’s just w—”

“No explanation needed.” He turned the page again and ran his finger down the inky text. “Wizarding heroes are a rare commodity. The demand you face most be unfathomable. So many dark wizards running around. They’re like cockroaches. Step on one and three more appear.” Severus flipped to the next page. “Or am I thinking of ribbon cuttings and charity balls. Motivational speeches in conference rooms full of the Ministry’s most mediocre.”

There was the the tick of a clock and the settling of firewood. Severus straightened and met Potter’s eyes and the conflicted expression on the man’s face. It swung between confused and remorseful and annoyed. Pitiful. Severus felt a little too much like a nagging spouse wielding a whip.

Severus snapped his book shut. “It’s fine, Potter. Go eat.”

Potter’s shoulders slumped and he nodded. He made for the door, but turned back as Severus stood. He bit the corner of his bottom lip and asked, “Will you join me? I can open a bottle of wine.”

Severus did not normally stay. Normally, he left the man to his lonely dinner for one. Severus enjoyed Potter’s wine though. He dropped his book onto the sofa and followed Potter down to the kitchen. Potter unbuttoned and tugged off his Auror robes as he went, leaving him in skin-tight trousers and a faded blue t-shirt. The t-shirt was also alarmingly tight, hugging lines and curves that the underfed boy should not possess. Severus averted his eyes downward to the swell of Potter’s arse, perched atop two fit thighs.

“Merlin, Potter.”

Potter threw his kit over the back of an extra chair. “What?”

“What?”

Potter sat down. His brow wrinkled. “You said my name. And Merlin’s.” Potter summoned a bottle of red wine from the top shelf of the pantry, two glasses joined it from the cupboard and they all settled on the table. “Usually that means I’ve done something stupid.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. He crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward. He hadn’t meant to saw anything out loud. Perhaps he could menace the boy into forgetting.

Potter narrowed his eyes in return.

Severus narrowed his further. The edges of his vision began to blur and waver.

Potter scoffed. “Alright, fine.”

Potter poured two glasses of wine and handed one over to Severus. He waved away the warming charm on his dinner, picked up his cutlery, and dug into his steak and kidney pie. He hummed his appreciation and scooped up another bite.

Severus twisted the wine bottle around. Malbec. From Argentina. It had a nice smokiness to it. Severus committed the label to memory.

“So,” Potter began. “I know you’re annoyed with me.”

“That’s nothing new.”

Potter nodded. “And I am sorry for being late.”

Severus brought his glass to his lips and sipped. Potter watched.

“I know.” Severus licked his lips. Potter watched that too.

“Good. That’s good.” Potter closed his eyes and shook his head. “I know you have better things to do than hang around here waiting for me all day. I really am genuinely and truly sorry.”

“Yes, Potter. I know. Drop it already.”

Potter tapped his fork against a chunk of golden crust. “How is your business going? The Potions one.”

“The Potions one would be my only one,” Severus said. Potter speared the crust, dragged it through a bit of gravy, and brought it to his mouth. Severus watched the pale column of throat swallow. “Adequately.”

“So,” Potter prodded at a soft bit of onion. “Are you dating or anything?”

Severus choked on his wine. “Why on earth would—” Severus coughed into his palm, moist and hot. He plunked the glass down with a tinkling rattle. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I just meant—you know…” Potter, gone pale and twitchy, scratched at his shoulder before shrugging it. “Am I keeping you from more than your potions when I’m late? When I ask you to watch the kids on the weekend? Things like that. Is there a person I’m keeping you from?” Potter pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, bit it to whiteness. “Just…what do you do with your free time, when you aren’t, you know here?” He closed his eyes. “Christ. I only meant to make conversation. I didn’t—”

“I do not _date._ Don’t be ridiculous.” Severus crossed his arms over his chest. Potter’s cheeks were red, so were the tips of his ears. His eyes pleaded with Severus for…something. Severus found he wanted to give it. “Potter. I work. I sleep. I hang from the ceiling by my toes.”

A laugh burst from Potter. He pushed his fingers under his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. Something of a habit of his, Severus noted. Potter pulled his hands away and his glasses fell back into place. He looked at Severus with something strange shining in his eyes. Something light and heavy at once. Something like relief and exhaustion.

Potter must be desperate to appease him. To keep him around. Cooking and tending to the children. Keeping his little fantasy world pumping along. Potter was terrified of putting him off, offending him, and chasing him away. As he had Ginevra. Severus lifted one eyebrow in Potter’s direction and sipped his wine.

**********

Severus nestled his head into his pillow, letting his shoulders, his back, his legs sink into the mattress beneath him. He exhaled a long breath and closed his eyes.

_Dating._

Of all the inane, ridiculous things.

Severus opened his eyes. Stared up at the ceiling.

He had never dated. Ever. He wasn’t a blushing innocent, but he’d never been one for romantic dinners, trite flowers, expensive chocolates. The domesticity of evenings by the fire, curled together with a book and a glass of wine. Casual affection. He narrowed his eyes at the shadowy water stain in the corner.

Whom had Potter imagined him dating? What poor, desperate witch or wizard would subject themselves to Severus’ tender mercies on a regular basis?

Of course…Potter didn’t seem to mind his company. Requested it, in fact. Even when the children were in bed and the domestic chores complete.

Severus laid his hands over his belly, felt it rise and fall with his breathing.

Potter was a moron though, of course, and his exhaustion had further crippled his ability to think. He paid, actually _paid_ , Severus, _Severus Snape,_ to care for his children everyday. The boy was clearly mental.

Potter didn’t date, understandably. Potter had never dated. He was probably awful in bed. A truly terrible fuck. The only experience he had was his lackluster marriage to a witch that allowed him to get away with murder. A couple of quick pumps, a little tickle here and there, and Potter likely passed out right on top of the poor, late Ginevra Potter.

Severus could teach him a thing or two. He had been a professor after all. With the proper motivation, Potter was a quick study. Not at Occlumency, but at many other things. Physical things like Quidditch and dueling.

Severus’ hand crept down to the hem of his sleep shirt. The tips of his fingers rucked it up, slowly, bearing the smooth skin beneath to their touch. A tendril of heat unwound and wove its way up his spine.

Potter would have never been with a man before. Severus would have to show him how to touch another man, how to open his throat and swallow around a hard cock. He’d be the first to finger Potter, open him with his tongue, his lips. He’d introduce the boy to his prostate. He’d have the boy ride him as he fucked into the tight, hot heat of his body. He’d have Potter, _Harry Fucking Potter_ , the golden hero of the fucking Wizarding world, he’d have him begging, gagging for it, wanton and desperate.

Severus shoved one hand into his pants and one under his shirt, grasping his cock with long fingers and flicking at a pebbled nipple with his thumb.

Merlin, but he was already hard enough to pound nails.

He tugged at himself, fast and rough, as he thought of Potter’s face. His pink lips parted around panted breaths. His eyes dark and wild. His hair rumpled and sweaty, sticking to his skin. The flex of his thighs as he rode Severus’ cock. The lean muscles of his belly flexing and rippling as he strove higher and higher towards his peak. Come dripping from the slit of his swollen cockhead.

The Potter of his fantasy roared his completion, white, hot come striping Severus’ chest just as Severus, alone in his bed, brought himself to a sparkling orgasm of his own. His back bowed off the bed, his teeth digging into the flesh of his bottom lip, his moan stuck in his throat as his neck arched, throwing his head backwards into his pillow.

Severus collapsed. His muscles slackened. He inhaled, exhaled through his nostrils.

Circe’s _fucking_ tit.

What was he doing? What was he _thinking?_

Wanking to thoughts of fucking a former student. He’d gone just as mental as Potter.

And Potter was not just any former student. He was not just any wizard. The son of his best friend. The son of his tormenter. The bane of his existence. The vanquisher of evil. The darling of the Wizarding world.

Potter was not a casual bedmate.

The boy did not simply come with baggage. He schlepped bloody chains and anchors around with him wherever he went, like some living, breathing Jacob Marley.

And that didn’t even take into account his children. His three mother-less children.

Severus tugged his sleep clothes back into place, he punched his pillow into shape, and rolled onto his side. This was a road best not travelled. He closed his eyes and used his rusty Occlumency skills to excise Harry Potter from his mind.

**********

“T-Tim e-e-ah-ts…eats a-n ah-a-pah…pah…lee.” James’ brow scrunched up and his nose wrinkled. His finger tapped the last word. “Aaa-ppah…”

“Almost,” Severus said, low, over his shoulder. He glanced up at Lily rocking on her hands and knees in front of them on the floor.

“Apple!” James threw a grin at Severus and then looked back down at the book. “Tim eats an apple.”

“Very good.”

Severus did not actually know when the average child started to read. Most, _most_ , children showed up to Hogwarts already literate. Not quite five years old seemed early though. Of course, Potter’s children would be exceptional in some way. They were Potter’s children after all. Though academics would not have been Severus’ first guess, or his second…or third.

James turned the page. 

Severus made sure to read to the children everyday. So, he could take some of the credit.

“Sss-uh-see-I-ee.” James huffed a frustrated breath from his nose. “Sss-uu-ssss —”

Albus plowed into Severus and wrapped his arms around his neck. Small though the child was, the force still jerked Severus to the side and knocked the book from James’ hands.

“Al!” James whipped around and glared. He stood to retrieve his book, and in his absence, Albus climbed into Severus’ lap, very nearly ensuring the end of the Prince line right then and there. He snuggled himself against Severus’ shoulder. Severus hugged an arm around his waist to pull him in, and to keep small feet from treading on delicate bits. Delicate bits he might need at a later date. To deflower their father.

Severus shuddered and patted Albus’ back awkwardly.

“I was reading.” James stamped a foot, his bottom lip pouting out.

“Sit.” Severus nodded at the spot next to him. “You can still—”

Severus’ eye was drawn to movement behind James. Forward movement.

Lily was crawling right for them. Hand, hand, a shuffle of knees. Hand, hand, a shuffle of knees. A delighted giggle (Lily’s, not his own). Hand, hand, a shuffle of knees.

“She can crawl.” His eyebrows shot to his hairline. He looked from James’ unimpressed face to Albus’ indifferent face, then back to Lily’s happy one.

Potter should be here. Or Ginevra.

How odd that life brought him here to see this instead. To listen to James read, to receive affection from Albus, to watch Lily begin to move about the world.

The universe was cruel and unfair.

Severus had done nothing to deserve these moments. He had never desired to possess moments such as these. Yet, here he was, here he had been for months now. He was part of Potter’s children’s lives. He was in their thoughts, in their memories, as they were now in his. He was very nearly attached. Beholden. Reliant. On something that did not belong to him.

At any moment, Potter could replace him. Should replace him.

He would be ripped from their lives as their mother had been.

They would be ripped from his.

He was nothing but a stopover in their lives.

And that was right. That was how it should be.

This family. Potter’s family. Lily Evans’ family.

What right did he have to these moments? What right to the this slice of someone else’s life? Severus would do nothing but taint this family further, rain more misery upon them, with his selfishness, his all-consuming, suffocating greediness. His need to possess and control. The taint he brought to everything he loved. He would ruin it the way he’d ruined Lily, ruined Harry. It had already begun. Because he did care for these children. Reckless and stupid as that was, he did care about them, and he wanted to be here to watch these moments that were not his to covet.

Severus pulled his eyes away from Lily. He glanced down at Albus. He cleared his throat and looked at James settling in beside him, flipping the book back open to the page about Susie riding a bike. He took a breath and said, “Read, James.”

**********

Albus pinched a spaghetti noodle between his thumb and his pointer finger. He delicately draped it across his fork. He brought the fork to his wide-open mouth and carefully maneuvered it inside.

Lily, perched in Severus’ lap, gnawed on a piece of lightly buttered toast, very slowly turning it into mush in her pudgy grasp.

James shoveled forkful after forkful of sauce-drenched noodles into his gob. His mouth ringed red and his shirt stained utterly beyond recovery.

Severus sighed and swung his gaze to Potter.

Potter spun his noodles round and round his fork into a loose bundle. “This is fantastic, Severus,” he said as he brought the far-too-big bite to his mouth. In it went and out it hung as he sucked and slurped them into his mouth. Spaghetti sauce striped his chin, stained his pink lips red, even dotted his left cheek. The last of the noodle just disappeared between the rosebud press of his lips when he continued, “Who’d have thought you were such an excellent cook.” He smiled at Severus, a bit of oregano clung to the corner of his mouth. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

So uncouth. Sloppy. This. This was the man that had been starring in his every wank fantasy for the last week. This was the man that had him rending his clothes and tugging his hair. This is what he was afraid of being too attached to.

Severus looked down at Lily, met her brown eyes, and lifted one eyebrow at her. She smiled around a mouthful of wet toast and reached for his nose.

“Um,” Potter began, eloquently, “Aren’t you eating?”

“Not particularly hungry.”

“Oh.” Potter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looked down at it. His eyes widened and he reached for a napkin to clean his mouth and his hand. His cheeks went red enough to match the sauce. He cleared his throat. “Do you want wine then?”

He did. “Yes.”

“Great.” Potter’s hand shot up and he flicked his fingers. A bottle and glasses floated gently over to the table and landed with a soft thud and clink.

He hadn’t even used his wand. He’d barely thought about what he was doing. Wandless, wordless magic. Potter smiled and the wine uncorked and lifted itself up to pour two evenly parsed glasses of merlot.

Severus shivered and clenched his hands into fists.

**********

Severus pushed the double pram down the pavement. James held onto the side of it, as instructed, and hopped his way along. The sky was grey and heavily overcast, but Severus could not take another day trapped inside the four walls of Grimmauld. He’d murder someone. Again. And he had a feeling Potter would not be so quick to defend him this time.

“Can we buy hamburgers for lunch?”

“No.”

“Can we buy a ice cream?”

“ _An_ ice cream. No.”

James pressed his lips into a line. They stopped at a crosswalk and the boy looked up at him with big brown eyes. “Can we fly brooms later?

A muggle standing in front of James turned a glance over his shoulder at Severus. Severus met his eyes and arched his eyebrows. “Yes.”

“Yay!” The lights changed and James leapt off the curb with a new spring in his step. “I love flying. Do you love flying, Severus?”

“I like it well enough.” Severus lowered his voice and bent to the side. “I don’t even need a broom to do it.”

James’ jaw dropped and his eyes boggled from his head. “Wow. Not even my dad can do that.”

“I can do many things that your father cannot.”

“Like what?”

“Potions. Risk assessment.” Severus turned the pram through the gate, down the path to the play area. “Combing my hair.”

James scrunched up one side of his face and tilted his head up to peer at Severus. “Dad can’t comb his hair?”

“I’ve seen no evidence to convince me otherwise. Have you ever seen him comb his hair?”

A wrinkle appeared between the boy’s eyes before they went wide. He shook his head. “No.”

“Well, there you have it.”

James nodded slowly in agreement.

Severus parked the pram next to a bench. He unbuckled Albus and plunked him down in the grass. Lily had fallen asleep during the walk, as she was wont to do, so Severus sat himself down on the bench and crossed his legs.

Albus walked a few steps to get a better look at a dog leashed to a tree on the other side of the play structure. James though stuck close by and gnawed at the corner of his bottom lip. Severus laced his fingers together and cupped them over his knee cap.

“He probably combs it sometimes though, or it would be all messy.”

“It is all messy.”

“Severus, do you like my dad?”

Severus opened his mouth. He exhaled. His fingers tightened and turned his knuckles white. His mouth snapped shut and he narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

James shrugged, one jerky up and down motion.

“Everyone _likes_ your father. He is Harry bl— Harry Potter.”

The boy did a strange thing with his lips, almost like he was chewing on this thought.

Severus asked, “Do you remember the first time we met?”

“Um, at my Grandma’s house. At the party.”

“Party?”

James nodded. “The one for my mum.”

“Well, right, yes.” The phrasing tripped a red flag in Severus’ mind, but he’d circle back to it. “Remember all the people there?”

“Yes.”

“They were there to support your father because they like him.”

“Support?”

“They wanted to help him. Make him feel less sad, less alone. And, I was there.” Severus paused, straightened his spine, curled his toes, and dove in. “What did you think the event was for?”

“Um. A fu-funoreal.”

“A funeral.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know what that is?”

“It’s the party we had to say good-bye to mum.”

“Party. You keep saying party.”

James nodded. “There were loads of people and food, like at a birthday party or Christmas.”

“Hm. Party implies a happy event.”

“I was happy.”

“Were you?”

James nodded.

Severus pulled his top lip between his teeth a bit down.

He shouldn’t ask.

He should stop right now. Share this nugget of insight with Potter and let him handle it.

He didn’t.

“If the party was to say good-bye to your mother, why was she not there?”

James peered up through his long, dark lashes and shrugged his shoulders. His face creased, his eyes turned bright. Severus’ fingers twitched against his knee. He reached out a hand and squeezed a small shoulder. James sniffed and shook his head.

“Go play with your brother, James.”

James ambled away. He took Albus’ hand and walked him over to the park.

Something dark and familiar wormed its way through Severus’ gut. Something he hadn’t felt since first laying eyes on a scrawny, orphaned Harry Potter for the first time.

**********

Lily looked like a tomato. A wet, snotty tomato.

Severus hadn’t known a human being could cry for hours at a time and not shrivel up from dehydration. But, today, Lily proved that an infant had an endless supply of tears within their person.

Her chubby fists clenched at his collar as she screamed her rage into Severus’ shoulder.

Severus rolled his eyes, sighed, and rubbed circles against her back.

After the first hour of this nonsense, Severus had Floo-called Molly Weasley. She’d taken one look at Lily and declared, “Teething.”

Severus had looked down at Lily’s hideous, little face, looking nothing like her namesake, and sneered, “Teething?”

“Yes.” Molly had reached through and patted Severus on the arm. “Welcome to the next few months of your life, dear.”

Severus would not make it another few minutes let alone another few months.

And the cherry on the sundae…Albus had lost his bleeding mind as well.

Clinging to Severus like a bad penny. Unhappy with every block, book, and banana Severus set before him. His big green eyes bright with frustration.

Severus plunked himself down on the floor, cross-legged, nearly taking out Albus in the process. He shifted his body until Lily’s legs settled comfortably against his body.

“Albus, come.”

Albus sniffed and circled to Severus free shoulder. He threw himself against it and climbed into Severus lap.

Merlin’s sweaty, bloody balls.

How the _fuck_ did he get here?

He rubbed circles against two small backs now. He looked out between the two small heads and his eyes found James. Sadly, terrifyingly, the only person in the house with a stitch of sanity left. He was at the window sill, racing two wooden trains back and forth and up the glass and down the glass. The smudged panes rattled and shook and usually Severus would tell him to quit, but right now the boy could be flying about the room on Potter’s Nimbus and he’d let it slide.

He’d searched the cabinets for a pain potion, but had come up empty-handed. Tonight, Severus would be brewing the world’s biggest batch of infant-safe analgesic. He may set a record. And it would be so strong. The strongest ever. Lily would be free of pain until at least her Hogwarts’ days.

Lily pulled away from his shoulder, sniffed. She looked at him, at Albus, and then reached up to rub at her eyes with balled fists. Severus realized he was rocking his body, swaying one side to the other, compulsively. He pursed his lips and rested his cheek against her temple. Lily whimpered and started in again with the tomato impression. Severus squeezed his eyes shut.

“Wow.”

Severus opened his eyes. Potter.

“What’s going on?”

His molars ground together. “Teething. You could have warned me.”

“Oh, yeah. A bit of a pain potion helps.”

“You are all out.”

Potter scratched at the back of his neck. “Actually, it’s probably up in my medicine cabinet, in my en suite. I keep it warded. I used it last night when she couldn’t sleep.”

Daggers, from his eyes. He’d heard the phrase before, obviously, even stared daggers himself, but he’d never felt the metaphor quite so keenly true until now.

“S-sorry.” Potter, bravely, in Severus’ opinion, took a few more steps into the room. He’s brow creased. “What’s wrong with Al?”

“He’s two and life is very hard. He must get it from his father.”

Potter made an unimpressed face that Severus wanted very much to punch. “Alright, here. I’ll just take Al, shall I?”

Potter bent down and hooked his hands under Albus’ armpits. He lifted up.

And Albus screamed. He curled his fingers into Severus’ shirt and held on for dear life.

“Okay.” Potter lowered him back down and Albus nestled in. “I’ll take Lils then.”

Potter wrapped his hands around Lily’s middle and hefted. And Lily cried out, sharply, and curled her body towards Severus. Severus hugged his arm around her and pulled her back against him.

Potter and Severus’ eyes met. Potter’s mouth hung open. A line of confusion creased the space between his eyebrows. He blinked, blinked, looked at Albus, looked at Lily, looked at Severus. Potter straightened, hands on his hips. He closed his mouth into a pouty moue.

“What on earth?” Potter said, scoffing, as his mouth tried, feebly to pull into a half-smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say my kids prefer you.”

“Perhaps, Potter, they do.”

Potter blew a breathy chuckle through his nose.

“Perhaps, since I spend the most time with your children—”

“Oi. I am here every night.”

“You mean when they are sleeping.”

“We have dinner together almost every night.”

“Less and less lately.”

“Work—”

“Bullshit.”

“Hey, language.”

“What did your wife think of this work schedule of yours, Potter?” Potter tensed, every muscle going on alert, and he shook his head. Severus glanced at James, his big, round eyes fearful and his shoulders up around his ears. “Because I’ve heard things.”

Potter’s hands curled into fists. “You’re overstepping.”

Severus held eye contact for a moment longer before he looked away. Merlin, help him. He felt like a bloody housewife again. He was Potter’s employee. Not his friend, not his partner. For his own sake, he needed to remember this. He shook his head and looked up at Potter. “I apologize. It has been a trying day.”

Harry deflated. He closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face, under his glasses. He turned around and went to James. He bent down and pressed a kiss to his son’s head. Severus averted his eyes. He settled the two other Potter children against himself, one on each hip, and stood.

“I’m sorry,” Potter said from over by the window. “I’ll order some takeout, shall I?” James smiled and Potter petted at the boy’s hair. “Anything you like, Severus. Anything at all.”

Potter ordered Chinese food.

Prawn Fried Rice. Sweet and Sour Pork. Crispy Szechuan Duck. Mushroom Foo Yung. Chicken Chow Mien. Crispy Wontons.

More food than they could all possibly eat in a week.

Severus piled bites of duck, foo yung, and prawn friend rice into his mouth while Lily fussed in his lap and gnawed on a teething ring. Albus threw more wontons from his highchair than he put into his mouth. James slurped chow mien obnoxiously between his lips.

And Potter, he pushed the food around his plate and peeked through his lashes at Severus. He chewed on his bottom lip instead of his sweet and sour. “Do you like it?”

The skin around Severus’ eyes tightened. “It’s fine.”

Potter scratched at an eyebrow and gazed down at his plate. The corner of his mouth pulled up and he met Severus’ eyes. “I know it’s not as good as your cooking, but that’s a pretty high bar.”

“Hm.”

Potter cleared his throat. “You are—”

Lily launched her teething ring across the table. It bounced off the carton of sweet and sour pork and landed on Potter’s plate with a thunk and a splatter. Potter, Severus, and Lily looked down at his now-stained shirt. Lily threw her head back against Severus shoulder, arched her back, and wailed.

Severus released his fork to clatter against his plate and hooked both hands under Lily’s armpits. He pushed away from the table and stood up, twisting the child around until she latched her legs around his middle and buried her face against his throat. He bounced on his feet and jiggled her. It looked ridiculous but he’d found it tended to work.

Not today though.

Potter circled around the table. He placed a hand on Lily’s back and looked helplessly at Severus. He smiled, small and useless, and said, “I guess the potion’s not working so well.”

“Shut up, Potter.”

Potter scoffed, of all things, and then pressed away his smile. He turned away and placed his hands on his hips. “You boys done?”

James and Albus grumbled through an affirmative response and Potter whisked them upstairs for their bedtime routine. Severus climbed those same stairs to Lily’s obnoxiously pink room. She sniffled and whimpered as Severus gave her a fresh nappy and changed her into a pair of footed pyjamas, soft blue and covered in brown bunnies.

He settled into the rocking chair with her in his arms. She smelled of laundry detergent and the herbs used in the pain potion, white willow and peppermint and eucalyptus. She whimpered, grumbled, and whined as she burrowed herself into Severus’ robes.

Severus would have bet his stirring arm that he’d be there rubbing her back and muttering various platitudes in the soft shell of her ear until Potter relieved him. Or, if Potter wisely ran far, far away, until the early hours of the morning. But some magic spell, the quiet and dark of the room, Severus warm body, his complete slack surrender to his fate, combined together and lulled her to oblivion.

Severus so slowly, so carefully transferred her to her cot and then crept from the room.

He shut the door with the softest of snicks and released all the air from his lungs in one breath.

“Did you actually manage to get her down?”

Severus whipped around with one finger pressed to his lips.

Potter lifted his hands, palms out, and mouthed, “Sorry.” He smiled and wrinkles creased the corners of his eyes. He whispered, “You really are a marvel, aren’t you?”

Severus pressed his lips together and pushed past him.

Potter reached for him, barely brushing his shoulder. Severus stopped and looked down at his hand all the same. Potter pulled his hand back and stepped closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Severus didn’t step back. They didn’t have to speak up that way, and he did not want to wake Lily.

“Okay.” Potter’s eyes darted between Severus’. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

Severus blinked. “Not tonight.”

“Oh.” His face fell. “You sure?”

“Very.”

“Right. Long day.” Potter’s gaze fell to Severus’ lips. “Um.” A pink tongue popped out and ambled its way across his bottom lip. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Potter swayed forward.

Severus jerked back.

They stared at one another.

Potter’s ears turned bright red and he smiled. “I guess I better get on those dishes while she’s down, yeah?”

Severus’ brow creased. He narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”

Potter turned for the stairs and trotted down them. Head high, shoulders back, and a kick in his step. Severus followed him, sedately.

He must have imagined…

Surely not.

No, of course not.

At the ground floor landing, Potter headed right for the kitchen and Severus headed left for the Floo in the sitting room. He spun away in a flash of green, very much not thinking about Potter swaying forward and pressing their lips together.

**********

Severus contemplated the mantle with his fingers steepled against his lips and his chin tilted towards his chest. He and James had selected another picture of Ginevra Weasley to frame. James had chosen to place it on the mantle above the sitting room fireplace. Potter had yet to notice either picture, or if he had, he’d yet to comment on the additions popping up around his home.

Also on the mantle, and not of Severus’ doing, there was a photo of Lily Potter, the older one, deceased, with that Gryffindor lout she’d married. Next to it was a photo of the entire Weasley clan at, what Severus deduced, was the Granger-Weasley union. Nestled amongst it all, and covered in a fine coating of dust, sat a golden snitch.

The clock on the wall ticked over to a new hour. A late one. Because of course.

Severus closed his eyes.

The Floo flared green on the other side of his eyelids.

Potter immediately went into it with the, “I’m so sorry, Severus” business.

Meaningless. Trite. Typical.

“Potter.” Severus placed his hands on the arms of the chair, uncrossed his legs, and opened his eyes to look Potter right in his contrite, beautiful little face. “It’s fine.”

Potter exhaled, his breath fluttered his bangs upward and his pink scar peeked out.

Severus pushed up from the chair and took a step towards him.

Potter’s tongue swiped across his bottom lip as he watched him approach. His Adam’s apple bobbed against the pale flesh of his throat and the boy chuckled. “I would say, ‘at least it’s almost the weekend’, but you are watching the kids for me Saturday night, so…”

“Hm.”

“Thank you, again, for that.”

Severus nodded and moved towards the fireplace and home. “Do you plan on returning home particularly late that night? Should I bring an overnight bag?”

“No, not especially late. I don’t have a date or anything, if you were curious.”

Severus turned around to look at Potter.

“I mean, who would I ask? You, I guess. I would ask you,” Potter rushed on with a half-smile. “But then who’d watch the kids, right?” The tips of Potter’s ears turned bright pink. He looked past Severus’ shoulder and toyed with the fastenings of his robes. “I could ask Molly to watch them.” He met Severus’ eyes, hopeful and anxious. When Severus didn’t respond, he pressed his lips together, looked down at his feet. He laughed, quietly, low, small, and shook his head. He mumbled, “Kidding. Just kidding. I wouldn’t.”

“Of course, you would not.”

Potter pushed a hand through his hair and tugged at his fringe. “I mean…it might be awk—”

“What on earth would people think, Potter?”

Potter’s mouth pulled up on one side. “I don’t care about that.”

“Your wife just died.”

Potter’s mouth snapped shut and his nostrils flared. He rocked on his feet and looked away.

The tick of the clock and a crackle of the fire filled the room. Potter swallowed loudly.

Quietly, Potter said, “You shouldn’t need a bag. Um. I should be home before midnight. Of course, if you want to stay over, if you’d rather go to sleep before that, that’s fine too. Whatever you want, Severus.”

**********

Severus stared at the flowers in Potter’s hand. His own hands deep in the dirty dish water filling the sink. He shook his head and turned away from Potter to face the wall. He blinked twice and looked back over his shoulder. Potter still stood in the kitchen doorway. He still had a bouquet of flowers in hand. Star of Mnemosyne: good for use in memory potions and churned up as mulch for Fanged Geranium.

“Okay,” Potter began. “I know I missed dinner again, and bedtime, _but_ I did bring you a gift this time to apologize.”

Severus lifted his hands from the sink and shook them dry.

“Technically, I bought these over my lunch break to say sorry for being late last night, and for how monstrous Lily’s been this week, but…” Potter took two steps forward and Severus turned around fully to meet him. “They’re Star of Mnemosyne. Dead useful. At least that’s what the florist at Dogweed and Deathcap’s said.”

“You brought me flowers.”

Potter’s cheeks pinked up. He thrust the bouquet forward and Severus took it without much thought. Potter stared at Severus’ hand clutching them and smiled, very pleased with himself.

No one, absolutely no one, had ever bought Severus flowers before. Ever. Not even ones disguised as potions ingredients. Severus tore his eyes away from Potter’s grinning mouth and looked down at the Mnemosyne.

Decent quality. Well-nurtured. Cut at the perfect stage of maturation. Dead useful indeed.

Potter’s hand crept into his line of sight. Severus watched as it slowly crossed the space between them. Potter fingered a purple petal. Traced down, down to the green stem. Down further. Coming to rest on the back of Severus’ hand. With a slight tremble, he pressed four fingers to Severus’ skin, curled them until the tips brushed the edge of his palm, and squeezed.

Potter cleared his throat. “I’m glad you like them.”

Severus nodded at Potter’s hand.

Did he like them?

He supposed he did.

They weren’t useless. They wouldn’t sit in a vase to rot and whither. As far as gifts went—

Severus’ head shot up. His hand tightened around the delicate stems. “Why on earth did you buy me flowers, Potter?”

Brow furrowed. “I said already, I thought. To say sorry.” He rolled his shoulders. “I also thought maybe I’d try again to ask you—”

“I am not your wife.”

Potter reeled back, one step, two, three.

Severus continued, “We are not creating some haven of domesticity together.”

Potter hugged his arms around his middle, but he glared at Severus as he spat out. “I know that. Of course, I do. Those aren’t—” He swung a hand out in the direction of the flowers. “I didn’t mean for that to be _romantic_. Christ, Snape. I was trying to be _nice_. I know it’s not something your familiar with…”

“Oh, do shut up.” Severus tossed the absolutely, not in any bleeding way romantic gift onto the dining room table. “I am your employee, Potter. You don’t buy gifts for your employees when you have a row. You fucking sack them.”

“I would never—”

Severus stomped his foot.“Why on earth wouldn’t you?”

“I need you.”

Severus’s eyes widened. He took Potter in, head to toe. The rigid posture and the firm line of his mouth. The shame and need he couldn’t stop from screaming out of his green eyes. Severus filtered all emotion from his face and stated, calmly, “You must forgive me, Potter.”

Potter unclenched, shoulders uncurling, spine straightening, face brightening.

“I have failed you,” Severus continued, lacing his hands together in front of him.

“You haven’t. Not at all.” Potter shook his head, aggressively. Lightening, thinking he was about to swoop in and save the day. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve allowed you to muddle on and on through this disaster you call a life.”

Potter scoffed, as though unaffected, but his eyes gave him away once more.

“You work too much.”

Potter rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“You claim that your children are important to you. Though you clearly prioritize inane obligations over them. You pawn them off on me, on Molly.”

“I have to work. Loads of wizards and witches with children work.”

“And before us, it was Ginevra.”

Potter’s mouth snapped shut and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Do you remember her? Your wife. Your _late_ wife.”

“Of course. Of course, I remember her.”

“I admit I have begun to wonder. You never speak of her. Nor do your children. James believes she is coming back. That she is simply visiting the Lovegood girl.”

“What are you on about?”

“How jarring it must be for them. She was here everyday and then, poof, gone.”

The edges of Potter’s nostrils had gone white and flared out with each huff of breath.

“He’s created stories,” Severus pointed to his temple, “in his mind. to compensate for the loss. You continue on as though nothing has changed. You work and go to ridiculous Ministry events. You leave early and come home late. I see your children more than you do. And then you bring me flowers.” Severus scooped up the flowers and shook them at Potter. “I am not your wife, you fuckwit.”

“I know that.” Potter shouted. “I’ve never implied—”

Severus threw the flowers at him.

“They’re flowers, for Christ’s sake. You are blowing this way out—”

“I cook you meals. I tend to your wounds. I wake you up in the mornings and put you to bed at night. I rock your baby to sleep and read books to your sons.”

“I never asked—” Potter shook his clenched fists and growled. “I thought you wanted to.”

Severus raised his voice to speak over Potter. “I will not let you continue with this delusion.”

“What fucking delusion, Snape?”

“That your wife is not dead. That you are not a widow. That your children haven’t lost their mother forever.”

Potter’s eyes were bright and hard. His body held so tightly his muscles trembled and shook with anger, with resentment. With disgust. At Severus. With what should have been there all along.

Movement over Potter’s shoulder caught Severus’ eye. James. The boy was standing in the doorway in the pyjamas Severus had laid out only an hour ago. A faded red color, brooms drifting lazily across his chest and belly, one of the legs had shifted while he’d settled into bed and one knobby knee and skinny calf were showing. James’ eyes were just as wet and angry as his father’s.

“You’re right, Snape,” Potter said, oblivious to his son’s presence in the doorway.

James’ eyes swung towards Potter and then came back to burn a hole though Severus.

Potter stepped forward. His voice cracked ever so slightly as he said, “Consider yourself sacked, effective right now. Get the fuck out of my house.”

James pressed his lips into a thin, white line. He looked Severus right in the eyes, stamped his foot, and yelled, “I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

Potter spun around, arms dropping to his sides. “Jamie…”

“This is your fault.” James’ eyes never left Severus’, even as tears pooled in the corners and broke free. “You did this. We were fine before, before, before _you_.”

“Jamie, stop it.”

Potter took the two steps needed to crouch down in front of the boy, but James glared at him, balled his hands in to little fists, and ran away up the stairs.

Something burned hot and sharp inside Severus.

He listened as the patter of feet disappeared behind the slam of a door and as Lily’s cries rang out loud and clear through the monitoring charm.

He circled around where Potter knelt on the ground.

He did not look down at him.

He climbed the stairs to the ground floor.

He ignored the damnable pull in his gut to go up to the first floor, two steps at a time, to scoop up Lily, to speak with James. He turned towards the sitting room and the Floo home.

**********

The air in Cokeworth stank of pollution and poverty.

The river wound through the town, from Spinner’s End on one side to the greener bits on the other, up where the Evanses once lived. The water reminded Severus of something Longbottom might brew, brown and thick and utterly useless. The smell of it rose into the air, hovering above the rooftops and chimneys, mingling with the clouds and blocking out the sun.

Severus walked along the bank towards the old park. Dressed in his wizard robes, black cloak and high collar, he’d long ago stopped caring what the people of this shithole town thought of him.

He settled onto a splintered bench. The rotted wood creaked and groaned beneath his weight. He crossed his legs and gazed out at the empty swings. One had sprung free from the chains and the seat dragged a line in the muck beneath it each time the wind caught it.

He’d never bring the Potter children here.

Who knew what disease they’d catch, what mishap would befall them. The park, once the shining beacon of his childhood, was now all sharp edges, rusted and broken. Both able, in very different ways, to cut Severus.

Severus rummaged in his pocket for the pack of cigarettes he’d bought at the pharmacy that morning. He’d not smoked since the war, since that blasted snake had ripped out half his throat, but he’d woke this morning with a craving and, at long last, a few extras coins in his pocket.

He placed one between his lips and snapped his fingers to light it. He pulled the smoke deep into his lungs and held it. Let it burn and burn and burn before releasing it back out.

A lifetime ago, he and Lily had snuck out here and smoked, thinking themselves very rebellious and grown up at thirteen years old.

Morons, the both of them.

What would she make of the mess Potter was in?

She undoubtedly would have handled it with more grace than Severus had.

She’d not have allowed it to get to this point. Not Lily.

Though if she was here, Potter wouldn’t be the disaster he was.

And, of course, exactly whose fault was it that she wasn’t?

Severus flicked ashes off into the yellow weeds crawling up the sides of the bench.

She’d not bring her grandkids to this park either. He supposed Molly was taking the children to the park now. Or maybe they now spent their days holed up at the Burrow. Maybe they were passed from house to house and relative to relative. Whoever was available on any given day.

Severus smashed the butt of his cigarette into the wood, putting it out, and then tossed it into the air, banishing it with a flick of his wrist.

**********

Minerva placed her elbows on the desk and laced her fingers together under her chin. She tilted her head thoughtfully to the left. “I find it hard to believe Harry of all people would be reticent about death.”

“Nevertheless, he became cagey whenever I hinted at it. Then tossed me out, dramatically, forever, when I came right out with it.”

“Well, to be fair, it sounds as though you were a bit indelicate.”Severus rolled his eyes, but Minerva insisted on continuing. “Harry lost both his parents. His godfather. Albus. Remus. A number of his friends. Then Ginevra. His whole life has been nothing but loss. Who better to guide their children through grief and loss?”

Severus shifted in his seat. “What a thing to be masterful of, guiding children through grief and loss.”

“What a thing indeed.”

Severus drummed his fingers against the arms of the chair. He glanced down at them, all bony knuckles, nails bitten and stained. He looked out the window at the overcast sky. Without turning his head, he peered at Minerva sideways. “Perhaps,” he began, “Potter hoped for more for his children. For better.”

Minerva inclined her head, her lips turned down in thought.

“Hm, hm, hm.”

Minerva and Severus shifted their gazes towards the sound, towards Albus’ portrait. “I think you’re onto it, my boy,” he said, nodding and running a hand through his beard. “Perhaps Harry only wished to protect them from the same injuries he suffered.”

“Ridiculous. He’s cast all new ones on them in the process.”

“Grief is not always rational.” Albus looked meaningfully down at Severus. “It is not always healthy.”

Severus held eye contact and absolutely did not squirm. Albus only smiled, blue eyes twinkling. Severus picked a bit of lint from his robes. “It’s worth considering.”

**********

Severus ran his knife over a bundle of peppermint. His nose twitched as the scent released and wafted upwards. He pinched the chopped leaves between his fingers and sprinkled them into the cauldron. Another order of headache potion.

He should be grateful. His reputation grew more and more each day. People demanded quality, effective potions regardless of who was at the other end of the stirring rod.

It was a bit dull though. Severus sunk down onto his stool and watched the brew bubble and change from sky blue to emerald green. Five more minutes and he would decant it and start in on the next order.

He sighed.

He stretched his neck from side to side, rolled his shoulders, and straightened out his spine. His stiff muscles begged to be stretched and worked.

He tapped the toe of his boot against the cement floor. Tap, tap, tap.

The potion roiled, bubbled, popped wetly against the side of the cauldron.

Every little noise in Spinner’s End seemed louder, echoing in his ears, night and day. A relentless, monotonous chorus of nothing.

**********

Severus preferred to grow his own ingredients when he could. Those he couldn’t grow and maintain himself, he purchased directly from the source, from skilled, dedicated herbologists. He would not be caught dead perusing the bins and baskets of herbs and such at Slug and Jiggers. However, Severus could not, unfortunately, craft his own cauldrons, and, for everyday use, one from Potage’s worked a treat.

Severus ran a finger around the rim of a copper cauldron. He’d had to use a ladder to fetch it from the top of an outrageously tall stack of them. It seemed level. No dents or rusted bits. He’d have preferred not to venture out to Diagon Alley, ever, if it could be helped, but mail-ordered cauldrons had a tendency to arrive dinged, scrapped, and smelling of bird dander.

He tucked his chosen one under his arm and began to descend. He was just thinking of giving the vial and jar section a little look before checking out when he saw her.

Molly Weasley.

He very nearly dropped the cauldron.

He tucked himself behind a display of ebony wood stirring rods, but kept his eyes on her by peeking around the edge. His gaze darted through the empty space around Molly. He decided not to lie to himself. After all, what good would it do. He let disappointed wash over him. Disappointment that the Potter children were not tagging along beside her.

He pressed his lips together and straightened up. He watched her make her way down the cobbled street, past Potage’s and into Flourish and Blott’s. He considered following her inside. She’d not begrudge him an update on James, Albus, and Lily. Neither would she hold back if he asked after Potter. Severus was sure of it. The Weasleys, in general, were not his favorite people, but Molly wasn’t cruel or withholding.

Severus tapped the cauldron against his thigh.

He looked up the street and then down it.

He bit the inside of his cheek.

He turned around and returned to his shopping.

**********

Severus unfolded his _Daily Prophet_ and promptly choked on his scrambled eggs.

Harry Potter graced the front page under the headline: “Boy Hero Youngest Ever To Be Named Head Auror!”

“Ridiculous,” Severus muttered, indignantly, to his empty kitchen, as he read through the article. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

Severus finished the saccharine story, a recitation of everything Potter had sacrificed for the Wizarding World, and glared at the picture. Potter stood in the Ministry Atrium. Red robes pressed and creased. Medals shining. His hand gripped firmly by Minister Shacklebolt’s. The picture cycled through the handshake over his illustrious new promotion over and over again.

Shacklebolt looked well-pleased in his own colorful robes. Potter, if Severus knew him at all, hid a grimace behind a toothy smile. His hair a bird’s nest of black tangles and cowlicks on top of his head. Deep shadows under each bloodshot eye. And thin. Potter looked as though he hadn’t eaten a good meal in weeks.

Severus attempted to muster up some glee at Harry being worse off without him. He called all of his bitter, selfish resentments to fore, but found them all lacking.

Harry Potter. Hero. Savior. Pain in the arse.

Cowed by life. Bent and broken. Struggling.

Everything Lily, Albus, the Order, everything he himself had sacrificed, and this, _this_ was what the man did with the life granted to him. Worked himself to death. For the fucking Ministry of Magic.

Severus tossed the paper across the table. He pushed his breakfast plate away, knocking it into his coffee mug. He crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.

He refused to believe that this is what Potter wanted to do with his life. To forever chase the ubiquitous bad guys. To prance and preen for the vapid Ministry of Magic. To be beholden to the ungrateful populace of the Wizarding world.

Harry Potter killed the Dark Lord.

They lived in peace and stability because of Harry Bloody Potter.

Harry Potter should bow to no one’s whims.

He didn’t owe the wider world a single bloody thing.

It was maddening. Infuriating. Vexing.

His blood boiled in his veins, burning away all thought to steam and ash.

He pushed away from the table and left the room and the bloody _Daily Prophet_ behind him, going off to bury himself in his own work for the day.

**********

Severus stared up at that damn water stain on his ceiling.

If he squinted, it resembled the shape of a lightning bolt.

He rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes. Then he opened them again.

He shuffled his hips and adjusted his legs. He fluffed his pillow and shoved an arm beneath it.

He tried very hard not to think on it, but found it hardest to resist at night.

He missed it. He missed _them_.

Bloody absurd. Ludicrous. Hateful.

Missing something that was never his, something he never had.

It had always, always been temporary, helping Potter with his children and home.

He hadn’t even wanted to do it. Minerva had bloody well made him feel obligated to it. Severus huffed and a stray lock of hair puffed up and then fell back against his cheek. Instead of tucking it away behind his ear, he rolled back over onto his back.

His life was decidedly better now. He had money in the bank. He had his magic back, unhindered. He had a nascent business on the brink of flourishing. He forced these thoughts to fill him up. To seep into the empty nooks and crannies of his soul. He willed them to take up the spaces James, Albus, Lily, and Harry had filled in the last few months.

But they simply didn’t. The voids left behind were too large. Too profound.

He loathed them all for it, but Potter most of all.

Potter who had it, had them, had it all, and wasted it. He had the lovely, warm home with the cozy little yard. Three bright, charming children. The spectacular career. He had love and support and respect. The picture perfect life.

All of it was a facade, of course. He was just as messed up as Severus. Though, perhaps, that only made them all the more suited. It certainly made Potter more alluring. More nuanced and complex. Darkly fascinating. Perhaps, he and Potter could deserve each other.

He and Potter. Severus could let it happen. If he reached out, Potter was desperate enough, Severus knew he would reach back. Potter was obviously lonely, and had been for a long while. And there were Potter’s sloppy, half-hearted passes at him. His attempts at insinuating Severus into a parental, partner-type role, a role that went beyond his duties as Potter’s hired help. He looked at Severus, said things, made him feel needed, even wanted. Potter seemed to be offering something to him. Something real and whole.

Severus was greedy enough, selfish enough, to take him up on the offer.

Severus pulled himself up to sit against his headboard.

He would be lying if he didn’t acknowledge his own want, his own desire. Potter was beautiful. Strong. Not a damsel in distress, no shrinking violet. Potter was a fighter. Life had handed him lemon after lemon, and he was still here. Potter’s accomplishments spoke of strength, inner and outer. He’d fought for his place in this world, for his very life. He had no reason to run from anything. He should face his children, the world, control his destiny. It made no sense for him to do otherwise.

It made little sense for Severus to do otherwise as well.

He’d fought for his place. He’d fought for his life. Just as Potter had.

He could be strong for him, with him.

He could pull Potter and the kids through this. Perhaps not elegantly or gently, but he was not without his methods, his cunning. Together, he and Potter could make a sort of life. If he allowed, it, they could be just what the other needed.


	4. Chapter Four

The last time Severus had been to the Burrow was for Potter’s birthday party. At the time, he hadn’t given the outside of the home much thought. The structure looked like something Albus had built with his blocks. Random shapes stacked together haphazardly, waiting for a stiff breeze to topple them over onto the carpet of grass beneath.

The sun hid behind a thick layer of grey clouds and fog, and the wind blew away any warmth that may have managed to push through. Gnomes scattered as he crossed the garden. A flock of birds chirped at him from a nearby elm tree. The house seemed to sway towards him, looming over him, as a hearty gust whistled past. Severus rubbed his thumbs over the pads of his other fingers as he walked towards it, recalling and repeating the reasons he’d chosen to make the trip.

Severus rolled his shoulders then rapped his knuckles on the door. Molly Weasley called out after his first knock. The door pulled open and her eyes widened upon seeing Severus stood on her doorstep. Severus inclined his head in greeting. “Mrs. Weasley.”

“Call me Molly, dear.” Her mouth tipped upwards in a polite smile as she stepped back. “Come in, come in.”

Severus followed her into the kitchen. She shooed Severus into a chair at the table as she prepared a pot of tea at the stove. Cups and spoons and saucers, sugar and honey and milk, bread and butter and biscuits, all flew and fluttered over her head, assembling themselves perfectly on the center of the table in front of Severus.

The chair creaked as Severus shifted his weight. He placed his hands in his lap under the table. The smell of yeasty bread and cinnamon settled around him, calmed him. He asked, “Where are the children?”

She turned with the kettle. “At home, I assume.” Severus’ fingers curled against his thighs as Molly sat down across from him. “We’ve been taking turns. The family, I mean. Andromeda and Teddy are spending the day with them, I believe.”

Severus swept his eyes down over the table. He did not much feel like a cuppa or a nibble, but it seemed rude to ignore the spread entirely. He plucked up a biscuit and worried it between his fingers.

Molly added a modest bit of sugar to her tea. “We were surprised Harry let you go before hiring someone else on.”

Their eyes met and held. Severus cleared his throat. “We had a disagreement.”

“That’s not so surprising, given your history.”

“I suppose not.”

“The children speak of you often. Well, Jamie does. Your departure effected them all though.” She set a cup before Severus and nudged the kettle towards him. “ _Severus this_ and _Severus that_. Were you hoping to see them today?”

He didn’t know yet if he was ready, honestly. His gaze shifted past Molly Weasley, to the window behind her. He bloody-well missed them, but that was not why he was here. He knew taking on Potter meant taking on all of the Potter rabble, including the Weasleys. He’d need back-up. He’d need to persuade Molly Weasley to his side.

Molly continued, “I’m sure Andromeda wouldn’t mind you stopping by.”

Severus’ nose wrinkled, he shook his head. Surely, Potter had warded Grimmauld against him, and he’d likely have done the thing properly. “I wouldn’t want to—”

“Those children have not had the easiest start.” Molly laced her fingers together on the table. Her expression stern. “Gin was a good mother and Harry loves them to pieces, but…things happen.”

Severus traced a finger along the rim of his empty tea cup. “Yes, they do tend to do that.”

“Jamie, Al, and Lily have suffered a great loss. People should not seem so transient, especially to those so young. The idea tends to linger, fester into something malignant. I’d hate for them to believe it’s a self-inflicted pattern, as their father does.”

Severus’ heart kicked against his sternum. “Of course not.”

“Finding one’s place in this world is not always easy or simple. Sometimes, people are led to believe that they are destined for something they are not, that they cannot change their path. It can be a struggle to come to either a place of peace or to find the strength to forge one’s own path. Sometimes, this struggle is visited, however unintentionally, onto other people. You’d know about that though, Severus, wouldn’t you?” She reached across to lay her hand over his twitching fingers. “Harry has had a tough road, but he’ll get there, I think, with help.” Molly smiled, pulled her hand back, and lifted her cup. “Eat something, Severus dear, you look peaky.”

Severus blinked twice, his mission accomplished much more easily than he expected, and brought the biscuit to his mouth.

**********

Minerva stood next to him at the window. The courtyard spread out before them. Students bounced around as they were wont to do in their free time. Though, a few lone children had settled on benches to enjoy the fresh air with a textbook in their hands.

“Harry Potter asked me to go to a charity ball with him.”

“Did he?” Her head whipped to the side. “Before or after he fired you? Wait, is that why he fired you?”

“Before. And, no.”

“Oh, I thought perhaps it was because you’d turned him down. But, then, he doesn’t seem the type to tend towards such pettiness.”

Severus arched one eyebrow and shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not entirely sure he was serious.”

“That’d be an odd joke.”

“He’s an odd man.”

“A bit.” Minerva conceded. “He can be. We can’t all be graced with your immense social charms.”

Below, two students began a faux battle with fallen tree limbs. Sparks flew from the end of one branch and there was a collective awe and then a titter of giggles.

Severus gripped his hands together against the small of his back. “If I’d said yes, Lily would have risen from the grave and cursed me black and blue.”

“She could try.”

“To say nothing of Potter and Black.”

“They have no say, Severus. They are dead, and you and Harry are here. If you want to date, marry, shag like rabbits, you should feel free to do so.”

“I would never shag like a rabbit.”

“Why ever not?” Minerva smirked. “You might find you enjoy it.”

Severus sent her a baleful look, shuddered, then moved his eyes to the Black Lake. Placid and dark. He sighed. “He brought me flowers.” Minerva tittered and Severus tutted. “Don’t laugh.”

“Well, it’s very sweet. Though, not the approach I’d take to woo you.”

Severus unclasped his hands and brought them around to cross over his chest. “Abominable thought.”

Minerva chuckled. “I say do what you like. You and Harry, I mean. Be sure though.”

Severus drummed his fingers against his arms. “Sure?”

“For the children. And for Harry. They’ve all suffered enough.”

Severus turned his gaze back out to the lake. “Indeed.”

“As have you.”

Indeed.

**********

Severus waited a week. Gathered his thoughts. Made a game plan, of sorts. A rough sketch of what he would say. Then, he rallied his nerves and apparated to the pavement in front of Grimmauld Place. His wand out and readied for wards, Severus marched up the steps and knocked on the front door without incident. The townhouse didn’t offer up even a tickle of resistance.

Ron Weasley, like his mother before him, widened his eyes upon seeing just who it was gracing the doorstep. However, attached to this Weasley’s hip was a gummy-grinned Lily Potter with her hands stretched out, grasping for Severus. A tumble and thunder of steps came from behind Weasley as James, Albus, and a bushy-haired toddler appeared at the end of the long front hallway. Albus squeaked and sped forward, chanting, “Sev-rus, Sev-rus!” with his arms raised. Severus didn’t know which child to grab first, but seeing as how Lily practically threw herself from Weasley’s arms, he was saved from the choice. He almost lost his grip on her when Albus barreled into his legs and wrapped spindly arms around Severus’ calves.

“Well,” Weasley said, a smirk tugging on his lips. “Someone’s popular. Never thought I’d see the day, yeah?”

Severus adjusted Lily’s weight on his hip and patted Albus’ mop of black hair, once, twice. He glared at Weasley and then shifted his gaze over to James. The boy’s disregard, the tight pout of his small mouth, stung more than Severus thought it would.

“Right, well, you should come in then, I guess.”

Severus steered Albus inside as best he could and followed Weasley.

“This is our Rosie.” He scooped the bushy-haired girl up as he went past. “You met her once, I think. Hugo’s up sleeping in that pink monstrosity my sister set up for Lils. You can see him later. If you like, I mean. You don’t have to.” Weasley rambled on as they climbed the stairs towards the playroom. James stuck close to Weasley, peeking over his shoulder to eye Severus. “I’ve not the first clue what Harry’d say about you being here. I know he let you go, but that’s all I know.” Weasley stopped and turned, his eyes racked over Severus. “Did you do something horrible?”

“No.”

Weasley’s eyes shifted over Severus’ face. “Alright. Hermione and me thought he seemed more sad than angry. But you never really know with Harry. He’s not great with emotions and things.”

An understatement of the issue, if there ever was one. Potter oozed _emotions and things_. They mired the world around him, sunk him, overwhelmed him.

Severus and Weasley seated themselves on separate chairs. Severus settled Lily snugly in his lap. Albus stationed himself at Severus’ knee, both little hands fisted in the fabric of his trousers. Rose tugged at the boy’s arm, attempting to pull him in the direction of the pile of blocks on the other side of the room. With a bit of cajoling from Severus, the boy went off to play.

Weasley grinned at him. Severus thinned his lips and looked away. His eyes caught on the person he’d come to see today. James. The boy inched along the wall away from them, his eyes hot on Severus and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His ears had gone red, just like his father’s did when he was wrestling with some high emotion.

“Jamie,” Weasley called out, tentatively. “What’s wrong, mate?”

Severus could feel Weasley’s eyes on him now. Surely, the man was currently questioning just why Severus had been released from his position and why it had turned chattery James Potter into a meek wallflower. In all honesty, Severus was quite surprised by the reception he’d received from Ron Weasley. He’d thought the man would be much more hesitant, suspicious. Mistrustful.

“He’s upset with me,” Severus explained. “I said something unkind to Po—Harry, and James overheard it.”

Ron scoffed. “Oh. Well, not a first there, right?”

“This was a bit different from the usual.”

“That bad?”

“Indeed.”

“ _Would_ Harry be upset I let you in?”

Severus turned Lily around, holding her hands as she pushed to her feet and balanced her weight on his thighs. “It is very possible.”

Weasley leaned forward, resting his elbows to his knees and steepling his fingers against his mouth. His eyes darted from James to Severus. “Was it something Harry needed to hear?” He cocked his head. “I know sometimes you say true things, things that should be said, but you’re rude about it. Was it like that?”

Severus let the attack on his tactfulness go by. “I believe so.”

“Harry’s real stubborn. You’ll need to make the first move to resolve things, if you want your job back,” Weasley said. “And, truth be told, it’d be nice for Harry to have steady help again. I don’t know why he’s not interviewed people yet.”

“Where in his schedule would he wedge it in?”

“True enough, but I feel like sh—I feel rubbish whenever I have to tell him I can’t watch the kids. Hermione does too. But, you know, we both work, and we have Rose and Hugo.”

A piercing cry echoed through the air on a monitoring charm.

“Speaking of,” Weasley said. “I’ll be right back. Can you keep an eye on all of them?”

“Of course.”

Weasley dashed from the room. Severus glanced at the two toddlers; Albus and Rose babbled to each other over their block towers. Then, he locked eyes with James. James flared his nostrils and threw back his shoulders. Severus tucked Lily against his chest, took some comfort, reassurance, from her familiar warmth and scent. He dove in with a simple: “James.”

James pulled away from the wall and corrected him. “Jamie.”

Hope fluttered to life in his gut. Severus hid it with a lifted eyebrow. “Jamie, may I speak with you?”

“I guess.”

“Will you come over here so I don’t have to crane my neck?” James shifted on his feet, but then crept over to Weasley’s vacated chair and climbed up. Severus watched him, patiently. Once he had settled and stilled, Severus said, “Thank you.” He paused, considered his approach. “Last week, in the kitchen, you did not like what I said to your father.”

“No.”

“Understandable. Did you believe it to be untrue?”

James’ brow furrowed. “I don’t know.”

What had Potter told his son? Had he broached the subject of Ginevra’s passing? Severus did not think he had a right to ask, but his curiosity clawed at him. “What did your father say after I left?”

“We talked about mum. Mum being…gone, and not coming back. He said it wasn’t your fault, or my fault, and,” he twisted his fingers together in his lap, “that I didn’t have to see you anymore, if I didn’t want.”

“Ah. Yet, here I am.”

James nodded.

“Do you want me to leave?”

James glanced at his feet. He pulled his top lip between his teeth and shrugged.

“I’ll let you consider it then, for as long as you require.”

“What is ‘consider’?”

Severus’ lips twitched in the corners. “It means to think about something, whether you want that something or not.”

“Oh, ok. I will consider you.”

“Thank you.” Severus rubbed a circle on Lily’s back. “And, James…Jamie, I am sorry for what you heard.”

James nodded. Then his eyes swept to the door.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Potter. He bustled in, in all his red-robbed, Head Auror glory. His lips thinned to a white line, his brow furrowed, his eyes blazing with emotion. Hands on hips and stance wide, he demanded to know, “Where is Ron?”

“Right here.” Weasley came in behind Potter, out of breath, and stood in the entryway, a ginger infant in his arms. He looked between Potter and Severus. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, quickly, and he said, “Um. Hey, kids, let’s go downstairs for a snack, yeah?”

Weasley managed to swoop Lily from Severus’ arms without jostling his son too much. Severus couldn’t help but be a tad impressed at his ability to juggle multiple children. It must be something Weasleys are born with, an innate talent of some kind. Potter waited until the sound of them all clattering down the stairs faded before he began.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” Potter said, forced and clipped, a bare edge of vulnerability peeking through. His jaw tightened. “I didn’t want you to come back.”

Severus rose from the chair to face Potter. Potter’s lashes fluttered against the blue purple smudges beneath his eyes, but he lifted his chin and Severus had no doubt the man was still angry with him. He hadn’t planned to see Potter today. He would not be allow the opportunity to pass by though. “I have a few items I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Items? Did you make a little list out of it?” Potter crossed his arms and leaned forward into Severus’ space. “ _Tell Potter he’s a moron_ , check. _A substandard father_ , check—”

“You’ve misunderstood my intent.”

“You came in, saw my life, and judged it. Not actually knowing anything but thinking you did. Just like you’ve always done. My entire life. Who cares that I am almost thirty bloody years old? That I’ve been married, had three kids of my own, and had a very good run as an Auror. I thought—” His breathing had gone ragged, his shoulders heaved up and down. “I don’t need your judgment right now, and I don’t need you, Snape. Leave.”

Potter’s voice was right on the edge of cracking. Severus saw anger, but he also saw pain and disappointment in the lines of Potter’s face, in the hitch of his breath, in the pulse jumping in his throat. Potter’s words rang hollow. Empty and untrue. Potter may not want to need Snape, or any one, but he desperately did. He knew it and resented it. The ache of it resonated, rang through Severus, a deep, resounding toll.

Severus stepped towards Potter. “What I said, while blunt and perhaps cruel, was not untrue, Potter. That I am right is what has angered you.”

“Don’t you dare tell me how to feel about anything.”

“I regret James overheard it said in such a manner,” Severus continued, undeterred. “But it needs to be addressed. The loss you have all suffered cannot be ignored away.” Potter blinked, with reluctance, as though he couldn’t bare to look away, couldn’t let Severus out of his sight for a moment. “I have been here for months, Potter. Your children, you, none of you ever speak of her.” Potter’s bottom lip trembled, but Potter tightened his mouth and forced it still. “I know what that is like, to ignore grief and loss, to let it fester. To burn yourself out running in circles around it. After everything so many sacrificed for you…I know you want more for your children. More for yourself.”

Potter pushed his fingers beneath his glasses, scrubbing violently at his face. He paced away from Severus, then spun back, a finger jabbing in his direction. “You, of all people—” He stopped himself. His posture straightened and held still. Anger rolled off him in waves of bright magic and energy. “I don’t—” Potter growled, clearly frustrated at his own inability to articulate his disquiet. “You have no idea what I want.”

“Because your still waters run so very deep, Potter.”

“See?” Potter’s face brightened, likely relieved to be on familiar antagonistic ground. “You only came back to have a go at me.”

“I came back because I never should have left.”

Potter stared at Severus. His eyes darted side to side, searching, assessing the measure of Severus’ intent. His anger cooled by his confusion, he squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head. “What?”

“I am sorry that I left. When we fought, I am sorry that I left so easily. I should have stayed.”

“No. No, I let you go.” Potter’s shoulders loosened. The skin at corners of his eyes twitched and wrinkled as he frowned. “I told you to leave.”

“I should not have listened. I know you’re rubbish at doing what’s best for you.”

“And you know what’s best for me, do you?” Potter laughed, low and mostly breath. “You’re under no obligation to take care of me.”

“Aren’t I?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what should I name this need?”

Potter’s Adam’s apple bobbed against the pale skin of his throat. “Need?”

“The need I feel to mend things, to see you right.”

“You—you need this job. You need the money and the distraction.”

“Not so much anymore.”

“Dumbledore, then. You feel…”

Severus wrinkled his nose and scoffed.

“My moth—”

“Do not finish that statement.”

“No?”

“No.”

Potter licked his lips and turned his head, a thoughtful expression on his face. He glanced sideways at Severus. He shifted on his feet and dropped his arms to his sides, more of the fight leaving him. “What other items?”

“Items?”

“Yeah, you said, you had items to discuss. Your checklist.”

“James.”

Potter’s cheek dimpled as he bit it. “I didn’t know James was struggling. I thought he was doing alright.” He sighed. “So, I will concede that some of what you said held a ring of truth.”

“Only some?”

“Only that.” Potter’s lips tugged into a kind of smile on one side, then fell away. “I need to do better by him, by them. I know.”

“What you and James need is beyond me, Potter. You know that, yes?” Severus drew in a breath. “It’s beyond even you, the Great Harry Potter. You realize that, I think, deep down. You are afraid to admit it. You are afraid to acknowledge that death is a part of your children’s lives, as it was a part of yours. That they have experienced a loss similar to your own. You wanted more for them.”

“I wanted better.” His voice thick with emotion. At Severus’ nod of agreement, Potter cleared his throat and said, “Life isn’t fair though, right? You taught me that.” A depressing legacy, to be sure. All the fight left Potter. He looked at Severus with wide, pleading eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Nor do I.” Severus took one step forward, then another. “But I promise not to leave, if you’d—”

“I do. I do want you to stay, to not leave. I want you to…” Potter’s tongue darted across his bottom lip before both it disappeared inside his mouth.

“But I will not play the role of housewife. The one you leave behind at the house to care for the children and cook the meals. I won’t remain placid while you bend to the whims of the world. I will not replace your wife. I am not Ginevra Weasley.”

Something complicated darkened Potter’s face. “I—Did I make you feel that way?”

Severus said nothing, stood still.

“I never intended to, honestly. I liked having you here. You ground me. There was this sense of security knowing that we all had you. I mean, I know we didn’t _have_ you. But…” Potter’s shoulders slumped. His head fell back and he looked up at the ceiling. “Having you here was better than having Gin. For me. Not for the kids, I’m sure, but. Severus.” Potter met his eyes. “I hadn’t loved Gin in ages. We fought constantly. Every day.” He laughed humorlessly. “We rarely shared a bed. This, right now, the last few months, is the longest run I have had sleeping in my own room since before Al. She resented me and never hid it. She hated that I left her behind here. She always wanted more and more and more from me. She wanted me to be all of these things that could never be. The more she asked of me, the more I hated her.” Potter glanced at the door behind him, lowered his voice. “When she died, do you know what I felt? The very first stirring of my heart?”

Severus shook his head.

“Fucking relief. I felt free.” Potter’s eyes glittered, bright and dangerously, disconcertingly wet. “I no longer had to deal with my loveless marriage. It ended through no fault of my own. No one could be mad at me for not trying harder, for being too broken to love her properly.”

Severus didn’t know what to say, but pieces of the puzzle clicked and locked into place. It wasn’t simply grief tearing Harry Potter apart. It was guilt. Shame. Some complex mess of all three.

“I am a terrible person, rejoicing in my children’s loss. How am I supposed to look at them? How can I guide them through a grief I don’t even feel?”

“So, you just didn’t.”

Potter shrugged and looked away. “And then you came along, and, Severus, I always wanted to reach out to you. After the war. I wanted to make contact. I was so bloody drawn to you. You were always there, in my thoughts, gnawing at me and gnawing at me. But I wanted to respect your privacy, and you never liked me anyway. But then you were here and you seemed so…touchable.” Potter laughed. “And I was free.”

Potter rubbed a hand along his jaw. Severus watched as he walked to an armchair and sat down. He cradled his head on his hands and placed his elbows to his knees.

Severus lowered himself onto the sofa across from Potter. “If this is you free, Potter…”

“I know.” He looked up at Severus through his lashes. “I am a walking disaster. I can’t even believe you are bothering with me. I expect you to run far, far away any moment now.”

“I’m made of stronger stuff than that.”

“Too right.”

“Just like you.”

Potter swallowed, his eyes gone bright and shiny again.

Severus crossed his legs. “The working yourself to death doesn’t help anything.”

“I can’t give up my job though. My career.”

“It doesn’t make you happy.”

“That’s not the point. It defines me.” Potter struggled over that word. _Define_. He had to know, as Severus knew, how terrible that was. How tethering, restrictive, suffocating it was to define yourself through your obligations to others, to people outside of your control.

One problem at a time though. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

“I don’t think I should hire you back,” Potter said. Severus agreed but it still settled uncomfortably in his chest. “I want you in my life. Our lives. But not obligated.” Potter eyed him warily. “Do you want that?”

Severus heard the unspoken us and nodded.

Potter’s breath hitched, stuttered with something like relief. “We should go slow, I think. Come at this from a new place, a better place. I don’t want it tangled with Gin’s death and my shitty marriage.”

“That’s wiser than I expected from you.”

Potter laughed, a breathy puff of air. “I think we have potential. A lot of potential. I want to get this right. It means a lot to me that we get this right, for all of us.”

A cascade of emotions hit Severus all at once. Relief and pleasure and shock. He’d hoped to see the children today. He’d hoped to gauge where things sat. He’d not expected a declaration such as this. He’d thought Potter had refocused, projected, his feelings for his late wife onto the first warm body that came along. That in his grief and denial, wires had been crossed and mangled, and that Severus would need to accept that he’d tainted himself in Potter’s mind by tangling his presence with that of Potter’s late wife.

However, it seemed he was wrong.

Potter was offering something bigger than he’d expected. Something he was not sure he had a right to want in return. Something he was not sure he’d survive having ripped away from him when Potter came to his senses.

“I think I should leave.”

“Oh.” Potter paled.

“For now. I need to gather my thoughts.”

Potter nodded, but it was half-hearted.

“I will be back, Potter. I promise.”

Potter smiled with half his mouth, but he met Severus’ eyes, bold and steady.

**********

Severus sat on the back steps of Spinner’s End. The sun, low and mellow, filtered through the rooftops around him, nowhere near enough to warm him. The back garden was in the ebb of the fall season. Row upon row of meticulously selected herbs, flowers, and vegetables, all in neat, trimmed lines. He’d methodically picked it clean over the last few weeks. Soon, he’d need to get it ready for winter.

It was nothing like the garden at Grimmauld, with its overgrown grass, trampled by tiny shoes. Tricycles and brooms lining the fence. Cars and trains littering the steps. Laughter, toddling steps, chasing butterflies. Treacle, domestic nonsense.

The domesticity wasn’t all terrible. It had a certain validation attached. No one had ever been quite so pleased to see him each day, eager even, as the Potter children. He’d been a decent caretaker. He’d not expected that, if he was honest with himself. Potter had no complaints. Potter liked him well enough. More than well enough, evidently. If Severus had read the end of the conversation correctly, Potter’s intentions were romantic in nature. Severus had most definitely not been expecting that particular turn of events. And, if he continued being honest with himself, he wouldn’t be opposed to joining himself to Potter. Attractive, brave, loyal, perfectly flawed Potter.

_Perfectly flawed._

Severus stood up and ambled down the steps into his garden. He trailed a hand over the yellowing leaves of a feverfew bush. 

Severus knew a thing or two about flawed beings, seeing as how he was one himself.

He’d always imagined it meant he didn’t deserve more or better than he had. He deserved the misery surrounding him. It was what he’d earned by indulging in his very worst inclinations as a youth, by fighting against the too-bright world with sneers and rage, by choosing to close his eyes to those he deemed less than.

Severus knelt next to the last of his lemon balm, its leaves pushed through the meager, polluted soil of Cokeworth, fed with Severus’ own mix of Dragon Dung and Star of Mnemosyne fertilizer. The wretched symbolism of it all.

Flaws were not a death nail. Flaws could be overcome, conquered, nurtured into strengths.

Simply because something was flawed did not mean it need be discarded.

He and Potter could take their flaws and meld and mold them into a shape resembling one perfectly acceptable unit. Functional and happy. They could all be a family of sorts, with a little effort. The rewards could be a lovely thing indeed. 

**********

Dust disappeared into the ether. The rug brightened and fluffed beneath his repaired and reupholstered furniture. Severus flicked his wrist at the bookcases. The bowed shelves straightened with an ominous crack. He may need to replace them altogether. Another flick and the windowpanes rattled and cleared of damp and mold. Fresh curtains and a new throw blanket and his sitting room would be ready. Inviting, even.

Severus smirked and rounded the corner to the kitchen. His smirk fell away.

Perhaps, he could keep Potter corralled into the sitting room.

Best not chance it. Severus sucked in a breath, rolled his shoulders, and got to work. The chipped tiles shook as they repaired themselves and the spotty grout around them filled in. The wood cabinets were refinished and repainted. The hinges were oiled. Severus was sweating by the time he arrived at scrubbing the floors and walls clean.

It took a whole day’s work, but Spinner’s End sparkled and shone like never before.

**********

_Potter,_

Severus pursed his lips and vanished the ink.

_Dear Potter,_

Hm.

_Harry,_

_…_

_Potter,_

Severus groaned and looked to the heavens.

_Harry Potter,_

Good enough. It was the man’s name after all. Severus nodded and continued.

_As per our last conversation_

No, no.

_I would like to invite you to my home for dinner._

Flick. Erase.

_If you are interested_

Severus closed his eyes. Inhaled through his nostrils. Exhaled through his mouth.

_If you are still interested, I would like to invite you to my home for dinner._

_Perhaps, Friday evening, around seven, if that time works for your schedule._

_Please let me know by return owl and I will send the address to you._

_Yours, Severus Snape_

**********

_Severus,_

_I am very much still interested._

_Friday at 7 is perfect, or it will be once I force it to be._

_Shall I bring anything?_

_Yours, Harry_

_P.S. I actually already know where you live, unless you’ve moved from Cokeworth?_

_P.P.S. I am greatly looking forward to our first date._

**********

Potter arrived at 6:55.

Severus spied on him through the curtains as the man steadied himself on the pavement in front of Spinner’s End. He appeared to be giving himself a little pep talk, complete with stern hand gestures. Severus arched one eyebrow and tried very hard not to find it endearing. The night was still young after all.

Potter steeled himself and strode towards the door. Severus’ pulse kicked up. All the reasons he should not be doing this rushed at him, pinged around inside his skull. He backed away from the window and into his sofa.

Potter knocked.

Severus had to be sure. Opening the door did not only mean having dinner and a snog ( _fingers crossed_ ) with an attractive partner.When this door was opened, it would tie his fate to Potter’s again. It would once more make him beholden to something, someone, outside of his control.

Potter knocked again.

Severus ran his hands down his dress shirt, straightened his cuffs, and pulled his face into something neutral. He answered the door.

“Hello,” Potter said with a smile. He was dressed in well-fitted black slacks and a blue button up, also pleasantly well-fitted. Severus could see the slight outline of pectoral muscles and possibly the pebbling of a nipple (there was a chill in the air). Blood stirred to life in Severus’ core, rushing down his thighs. He stepped back to allow Potter to enter. “Oh, wow. It smells fantastic in here.” Potter handed Severus a bottle of red wine. “I hope this goes with what you’ve made for us.”

“It will pair well with dessert.”

“Great.” Potter trailed behind Severus as they moved into the sitting room. His eyes quickly took in the cramped space. Even clean and tidy, Spinner’s End could not compare to Grimmauld. “I like your place.”

Severus sneered, then thought better of it. Nothing in Potter’s face appeared disingenuous, and Severus didn’t think Potter cared much about that sort of thing. “Thank you, I suppose.”

“Well, I mean…” Potter cleared his throat. “The street seems a little dodgy.”

Severus ran a finger over the label on the wine bottle. “It leaves much to be desired.”

“And, there was a strange smell.”

“I’m well aware. It comes off the river.”

“Right.” Potter rushed to add. “But it doesn’t smell bad at all in here. So. That’s good.”

“Yes. My insulation charms are more than adequate.”

Their eyes met and fell away and met again. Potter smiled. Severus’ fingers curled and uncurled.

“I’m sorry,” Potter said. “I shouldn’t have said that about the street. I don’t actually care. I mean, I do. Because it seems a bit unsafe, and I want you to be safe. The pollution in the river can’t possibly be healthy either.” Potter closed his eyes and took a breath. “I’m babbling. I’m so sorry. I am more than a little nervous. I haven’t been on a proper date since I was still a teenager.”

Severus found he wasn’t so upset. Potter’s nervousness emboldened Severus. It meant they both knew the gravity of their decision to be here tonight.

“Would you like to assist me in finishing our dinner?”

Relief swept over Potter’s features. “I would absolutely love to.”

Severus had carefully selected the night’s menu. After month’s of fare suited to children, he had looked forward to attempting something for two adults, even if one of them had retained the tastes of a child. He had the sea bass fillets readied for the pan. The potatoes were roasting in the oven. A green salad drizzled with a lemon vinaigrette already sat in the center of his small dining table.

“You can stir the white wine sauce while I prepare our fish.”

“Okay.”

“You only need not let it stick to the bottom or burn.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Potter said. “I cooked a great deal growing up. Aunt Petunia always had me in the kitchen.”

“Really?”

“Nothing fancy like this. Mostly fry ups. Pastas and soups and such.”

“Is that why you do not cook now?”

“No, I’ve never really had the chance. There was Hogwarts and the elves, then Kreacher, then Ginny.” Potter smirked. “Then you.”

“Well.” Potter did have him now. Severus placed the first fish fillet into the pan. He said to Potter, “Add the parsley to your pan and whisk it, gently.”

Potter did while Severus finished off the sea bass. They turned off the burners. Severus pulled the garlic-scented potatoes from the oven. They plated everything and brought it to the table before sitting down themselves. Severus poured two glasses of wine, a sauvignon blanc from France, from the same bottle he’d used in the sauce.

Potter sat back in his chair. His gaze fixed on Severus for a moment then swept across the table. He picked up his utensils and said, “This is so nice. I’ve never had a proper dinner like this, you know, with someone I cared about.”

Severus lingered over those last three words. His thoughts churned them up and dissected them as his fork and knife sunk into the flaky fish. The delicate sauce sparked to life on his tongue as he turned the words over and looked at them from every possible direction. The potatoes burst open as he bit into them with his molars. Potter stacked his last potato and his last morsel of fish on the tines of his fork, swipe it through the sauce, and pop it all into it his mouth as Severus finished parsing the statement.

“I care about you as well.”

Potter’s cheeks bulged with food and his eyes widened, but his mouth tugged up at the corners. He swallowed quickly, possibly painfully, going by the slight grimace. “Thank you.”

Severus pulse fluttered against the scars of his throat. His skin went cold, then warm. “Dessert?”

“Yes, please.”

Potter cleared the dinner plates by sending them neatly over to the sink. Severus brought over the rhubarb crumble he’d prepared earlier in the day and left under a warming charm. The custard he’d left warming on the back of the stove followed behind him as he returned to his seat.

“Amazing,” Potter said as he dished a bowl, first for Severus, and then for himself. They each ladled custard on to their own preference. Severus a modest amount and Potter far, far too much. Severus opened the red wine Potter had brought. It didn’t actually go particularly well with crumble and custard. Severus had only said so to preserve Potter’s feelings. Also, who cared about such things really? Not Severus. Certainly not Potter.

With dinner finished, Severus and Potter left the dishes behind in the sink and adjourned to the sitting room with rest of the wine. They spoke of inane things, like books and music, and then less inane things like James, Albus, and Lily. They spoke of home renovations and what home meant to them.

“Hogwarts is like a beacon, you know,” Potter said. “I always feel it calling to me.”

Severus felt the words down to his pinkie toes. “A similar calling rings through me.”

They talked about the Ministry, but only very briefly, as it turned out to be a bit of a mood killer. They talked about Albus. Albus Dumbledore, not Albus Severus. Though, the topic naturally ebbed in the child’s direction.

“Gin hated the name. She thought Albus old-fashioned and fuddy. And Severus…”

Severus inclined his head and sipped his wine (their third bottle; he’d dug it up from his own liquor collection).

They’d turned on Severus’ old record player at some point and he played some of Lily’s old favorites for Potter. Then his own favorites. Then Potter flipped through and chose the album he was most curious about. They splayed themselves out side-by-side on the sofa, tipsy and touching shoulder to hip, and listened. Severus’ hands were tucked in his lap. Potter’s laid against his stomach, rising and falling with his steady breathing.

Severus watched Potter’s hands. Golden-skinned and sure. His nails blunt and clean. His fingers tapped against his shirt as he found the rhythm of the song. There were scars on the back of his left hand. Scratchings that resembled words carved into flesh. Severus focused his sight on them. He reached over and ran a finger across the knotted ridges.

Potter stilled and glanced down. After a moment, he offered, “Blood quill, my fifth year.”

“Umbridge.”

“Yeah.”

Anger, molten hot and churning, filled his gut. Severus scooped up the hand and brought it to his lips. He didn’t kiss it. He pressed himself to it. Potter’s breath caught and Severus’ heart skipped a beat. The anger melted into something lighter and heavier all at once. It shifted from his belly, lower and higher, soaring through his limbs.

Severus hesitated, fearful of what he’d see reflected or how his own eyes would betray him, but then he lifted his gaze to Potter’s. “Your eyes are obnoxiously green.”

Potter laughed. His mouth pulled into a wide smile.

Severus, slightly drunk, continued, “And your teeth are ridiculously straight.”

“Such sweet nothings.”

His cheeks went hot. Severus turned his head and looked up at the ceiling. Potter shifted besides him, pressing up on his knees and facing Severus. Warm breath brushed against the shell of Severus’ ear. It smelled of wine and fruit and sent a shudder racing down his spine.

“I like your voice.” Potter licked his lips after he said it. Severus heard his pink tongue slid across his tender bottom lip, slick and slow. “It does things to me. It did even when I was in school.”

Severus wrinkled his nose and faced Potter. “If we could, let’s leave behind all reminders of your school days.”

Potter smirked. “Don’t like thinking of me half-hard in my school uniform?”

The problem was that he rather did like thinking of it. Not school-boy Potter, necessarily, but recently Severus found the thought of Potter’s cock quite delighted him, no matter the wrapping. “I don’t care for the reminder of my age relative to your own.”

Potter shrugged and propped his head on his hand. “It doesn’t bother me. Does it bother you?”

“Less than it probably should, I suppose.”

Potter’s mouth twitched on one side. His mouth looked soft, lush. Slightly chapped, but nothing Severus wasn’t more than happy to overlook. He had the smallest scar on his top lip, a tiny white-pink line that ran from his golden skin down into the delicate red flesh of his lip. Severus never would have seen if he wasn’t so close, if he wasn’t staring so hard. He bent forward to taste it.

Severus kissed Potter’s top lip, flicking his tongue against the scar. Potter breath hitched and he lined their mouths up and pressed forward. Fingers pushed into his hair as Potter swung a leg over Severus’ lap and straddled him.

Severus’ hands went to Potter’s waist. They fit perfectly, as though they’d belonged there all along. As if Potter’s waist had been grooved, notched, shaped for his palms, his fingers, his hands. A moan pulled from his throat and he tightened his grip.

“God, Severus, that voice.” He pet the hair he’d surely mussed and ran his thumbs across Severus’ cheekbones. He rolled his hips forward, hissed. “This is already so good.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “We’ve barely begun.”

Potter chuckled and brought their lips together again. Severus tilted his head and deepened it, letting his tongue try for entrance into Potter’s mouth. Potter opened with a groan, his tongue meeting Severus’, tangling and twisting, warm and wet.

He ran his hands up Potter’s back and then raked his nails down again. Potter pulled from the kiss as his back bowed and his hips pressed forward.

Potter brought his own hands to the top button of Severus’ shirt. He met Severus’ eyes and slipped it free from the hole, then moved to the next and did the same.

Potter asked, his voice rasping and quiet, “Is this too fast?”

“Probably.”

He undid the third button. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Not at all.”

Severus tucked his chin and watched the man’s fingers work. Sure and steady and with an aching slowness, he revealed Severus chest, his belly. The light dusting of dark hair that circled his nipples and ran in a line down his center and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers. Potter traced it, first with the pads of his fingers, and then with a breathtaking scrap of his nails.

Potter thumbed the pink nubs of Severus’ nipples and they hardened with his touch, sending waves of heat cresting low in the cradle of Severus’ hips. Potter bent forward and nipped at one and then the other. Severus groaned and rutted upward. Potter looked up through his lashes as he rolled the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Are you sensitive here?”

He really was. All Severus could do in response was nod.

“Beautiful.” Potter brought lips back to Severus’. “I’m going to find every sensitive place on your body.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Severus choked out and tried his damnedest not to arch into Potter’s hands. He didn’t want to make it too easy for him.

“I want to make you feel so good, Severus. So good. I want you to moan for me.” Potter ran his hands up his chest, his fingers skipped across his collarbones. “Want you to beg for me.”

Severus never begged for anything. Potter’s fingers moved to his throat. The scarred skin, ugly, and long-ignored, flamed to life. Severus threw his head back against the sofa and keened. Merlin, he sounded like a wounded animal, but his hips bucked against Potter’s.

“So beautiful.” Potter shifted up onto his knees and kissed him. “I want you to say my name. Before we’re done, I want you to scream it.”

Severus groaned and hooked his arms around Potter’s middle, unseating him, twisting him, and pushing him to his back. Severus covered his body with his own and brought their mouths together. Potter slid the shirt from Severus’ shoulders. Severus went up on his knees to unbutton the cuffs and toss it over the arm of the chair.

He looked down at Potter spread out under him, his chest swelling and shrinking with each panted breath. Severus swiped his thumb across the man parted and kiss-swollen lips to feel the damp heat of each exhale.

Gorgeous. Bloody gorgeous.

Their hands met on Potter’s shirt as they worked it open together. Severus couldn’t get his hands on Potter’s bared skin fast enough. Soft, supple, and achingly beautiful. Severus’ fingers danced over his belly, his chest. Potter had a gnarled oval scar marring the flesh over his heart. Severus traced it and glanced up at Potter with a cocked eyebrow.

“Um, that one’s a bit harder to explain.”

“Later, then.” Severus pressed a kiss to it and sat back with his hands on Potter’s belt buckle.

Potter nodded, his black mop of hair catching against the woven fabric of Severus’ sofa.“Later.”

Severus toyed with the metal prong holding it down. “Have you done this before, Potter?”

“Harry, and, yes, I do have three children.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “I meant with a man, obviously.”

“Oh.” Potter’s tongue raced across his lips. “No.”

Severus nodded. He’d assumed as much. “You will tell me if you need to stop.”

“I won’t need to. Sex is sex.”

Severus tilted his head and pressed his lips together. “A decent theory, disproven by practice.”

Potter brought his hands up to rest on Severus’ thighs. “You’ve been with both?”

“Yes.”

Potter dug his perfect teeth into his bottom lip. A wrinkled appeared between his eyebrows.

“Promise, Potter—”

“Harry.”

Severus leaned down, brushing his mouth to Potter’s ear. “Harry.” The man whimpered, shuddered beneath him, his hips surged up against where Severus’ hands still held his belt buckle. “Promise me, Harry, if it’s too much, if I overwhelm you, you will tell me. We will throttle back. We will stop. Anything you need.”

His voice shook as he said, “I promise.”

“And I promise,” Severus traced the whorls of Potter’s ear with his nose, “to make you feel so good, Harry.”

Potter groaned and pushed his head back, opening the long, pale column of his throat to Severus. Severus tugged the lobe of Potter’s ear between his lips and flicked it with his tongue before moving his mouth down to what was on offer. Severus pressed his tongue to Potter’s pulse point, lapping, undulating, in rhythm with the man’s heartbeat. He closed his mouth around the flickering skin and sucked, nibbled, laved while Potter writhed and whimpered beneath him.

Severus pushed back onto his knees. He plucked Potter’s glasses from his face and floated them over to the coffee table. “Toe off your shoes.”

Potter set to work on his task, wriggling and straining, as Severus opened the man’s belt, pulled down his zip, and unfastened the button.

He lifted a hand and summoned lube. Potter watched him and smirked as they waited for it to travel from Severus’ bedside table, down the hall, down the stairs, though the foyer, and around the corner to his hand.

“Impressive,” Potter said.

Severus inclined his head and placed the vial close at hand on the floor. He glanced behind him, assessed the length of the sofa. He’d never, _never,_ fucked anyone on it. He’d never fucked anyone in this house, come to think of it. He looked back down at Potter and narrowed his eyes.

Potter’s eyes went wide. “What? What’d I do?”

Much as it pained him, he disentangled himself from Potter and stood. He gestured for Potter to, “Sit up,” and he moved the coffee table out of the way, tossed a pillow on the ground, and kneeled in front of him.

“Oh, fuck, Severus.”

Severus tucked his hands into the waistband of the man’s pants and, with a quick lift of Potter’s arse, pulled them and his trousers off in one go. “Shift yourself forward and spread your legs for me.”

Potter bit his lip and groaned as he complied.

Severus nestled himself between Potter’s thighs and then stilled. His breath caught in his throat and sat like a stone in his wind pipe.

Potter was naked.

Harry Potter was naked on Severus Snape’s sofa.

Severus was half naked and on his knees before the hero of the Wizarding world.

He swallowed the lump down, jagged and hot, it worked itself down.

Severus placed one hand on each of Potter’s thighs. Let them drift upwards, towards Potter’s hips, towards Potter’s cock. It was a lovely cock. Severus circled the girth with his thumb and middle finger. He grazed his index finger over where the pink head peeked from the sheath of its foreskin. He let the rest of his fingers come round to circle the hard length and shifted them down until the edge of his palm brushed the dark nest of curls.

His eyes traced a path from Potter’s cock, up the flat plains of his stomach and chest, to his face. His cheeks had pinked and his pupils were dark, a shallow circle of green around them. He pumped his fist and Potter’s mouth fell open, his brow creased. Severus listened to each panted breath, each moan and groan, and let them burn into his mind, let them grow and flourish and spread to his own nerve endings, to his own cock pressing a hard line against his pants.

He stroked Potter until his foreskin pulled back and the glistening head revealed itself entirely. Drops of precome gathered in the delicate slit and Severus brought his tongue forward to taste Potter for the first time. They moaned together, a deep, rumbling chorus.

Severus felt himself unspooling, felt his want and need pressing against his control.

He took Potter into his mouth. His tongue circled the smooth skin of his cockhead, tracing the edges and flicking at his frenulum. He dipped into the slit again before pulling off.

“Bring your legs up and hold yourself open for me,” Severus said, picking up the lube and popping it open.

Severus was not stingy with the lube on his fingers. He smeared more around Potter’s hole, eliciting a string of profanity from Potter. Severus took Potter’s cock back into his mouth while he worked his fingers into the tight heat of Potter’s arse and opened him up.

Fuck, but Potter was so tight. His walls pressed and squeezed against first one finger and then two, and three. Potter’s hands speared into Severus’ hair as he rocked his hips upward, fucking Severus’ mouth, and then downward, fucking himself with Severus’ fingers.

When Severus thought him sufficiently ready, he hooked his fingers and pressed against the little almond-sized nub of Potter’s prostate. Potter arched his back and pressed his cock impossibly deeper into Severus’ mouth. Severus pulled air into his nostrils and swallowed him down.

Potter’s hands fisted into Severus’ hair, held him tightly down against his pelvis. “Oh, god, oh _god_ ,” he chanted and pressed even further, the head of his cock touching the back of Severus’ throat.

Severus withdrew his fingers from Potter, slowly, carefully, and Potter’s hands unclenched and released him.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry,” Potter said, patting Severus’ hair. “Did I hurt you?”

Severus shook his head and pushed to his feet. “Of course not. You’re ready.”

Potter licked his lips, squeezed the base of his cock, and nodded. “How do you want me?”

Severus suppressed a shudder at those words. His voice came out thick and rasping as he instructed, “On your knees. Face the fireplace. Hands braced on the arm of the sofa.”

In a flurry of motion, Potter obeyed.

“Such a good boy,” Severus purred and watched Potter tremble. Severus got his first look at Potter’s delectable arse. He kneeled behind the man and cupped each cheek. He kneaded and spread him open. “Perfection.”

“God, your voice.” Potter fell forward onto his elbows. “I’m hard as stone, and gagging for it, and you’ve still got your bloody trousers on.”

Severus’ lips tugged up into a feral smile. “I can fix that. You just stay exactly like this for me. Can you do that, Harry?”

Potter hooked his chin over his shoulder and nodded. He watched as Severus slid his shoes from his feet, toed off his socks, and divested himself of trousers and pants. Severus groaned as his own prick sprang free, hard and red. He’d been more turned on than he’d realized, focused as he was on Potter. He picked up the lube vial and spread a healthy amount over himself. Biting the inside of cheek and groaning.

Potter blew out a breath. “That’s a lovely sight.”

Severus fisted himself a few times for Potter, reaching up to pinch a nipple and make a bit of noise. Potter’s tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth and he reached for his own cock.

“None of that,” Severus said and released himself. “Ready?”

Potter nodded and faced forward. “So fucking ready. Been ready.”

Severus knelt behind him. He looked at the breadth of Potter’s shoulders, at the gentle curve of his back, at the acres of golden skin, the swell of his arse. All laid out for _his taking_. He took Potter’s sharp hip in one hand and his own cock in the other. He lined himself up and pressed forward.

He’d done well preparing Potter, but the man was still tight. “Relax for me, Harry.”

Harry inhaled and exhaled. He did it again with a longer exhale. His muscles loosened and gave and the head of Severus’ cock sunk in. Severus set a steady rhythm, working himself further and further in, until he was fully sheathed in Potter’s body.

He paused to appreciate the moment, ran his hand over Potter’s lovely back, gripped both hips, then shifted one hand to Potter’s cock. Potter was still hard, a good sign.

Severus pressed his lips to the smooth stretch of skin between Potter’s shoulder blades and fisted Potter’s cock. “I’m going to fuck you now, Harry.”

Potter moaned and pumped his hips, pushing his cock forward into the circle of Severus’ fingers and fucking his arse back onto Severus’ hard length. Severus moved his hips to match Potter’s pace.

Potter wasn’t a quiet lover, Severus was happy to note. Unafraid to pant and whimper. It served to ratchet Severus’ arousal higher and higher, making him snap his hips forward. But he wanted to make Potter scream, wanted him to call out to the heavens, shout Severus’ name. He wanted this to be so good for the man that he came back again and again, begging for it.

Severus stilled and Potter grunted his displeasure. With his forearm, Severus wiped at the sweat gathering across his brow. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and adjusted the angle of his hips and began again. Potter groaned his approval, but it wasn’t enough. Severus pushed at the center of Potter’s back, angling his hips. He shifted and adjusted again, and again, until Potter mewled, half-sobbing, and Severus knew he’d found that sweet spot.

Severus pounded into the tight heat of Potter’s arse, relentlessly hitting his prostate. The muscles in Potter’s back bunched and shifted as he pressed back and back and back.

So beautiful.

Severus ran his fingers along the lines of Potter’s back, he drank in the desperation and need and strength of the man at his mercy beneath him.

Potter’s cock, still rutting itself through Severus’ other hand, was leaking, wetting the friction and pushing Potter to his peak. Heavy and hot against Severus’ palm. Severus gave the full length of it one more pump then swiped his thumb softly over the tender head. The muscle of Potter’s arse tightened around him. Severus loosened his grip, to the maddeningly perfect pressure he himself enjoyed, and focused his movement on the oversensitive glans and upper shaft.

Potter choked out, “Christ, Severus. I’m gonna—”

He broke off into a long cry. His cock jerked and hardened in Severus hand, he tightened impossibly further around Severus’ aching prick, and he came over Severus’ knuckles, his wrist, the fabric of his sofa. Potter’s cry died away into a half-choked sob.

Severus trembled against Potter. His skin felt too tight. He _ached._ Severus wrapped his arms around Potter’s chest, hugged him, holding on for dear life as he fucked the man. He buried his face between the points of Potter’s shoulder blades and pounded into him. His hips moved faster, sharper, urgent. His orgasm right there, gathered low in his belly, in the shaking of his thighs. His nails dug into Potter’s flesh as it crested over him in white wave after white wave of tight, burning pleasure. His mouth opening against Potter’s skin and calling out, “Harry, Harry, Harry,” like a penitent.

Severus let his breathing return to something closer to levels that allow for survival and pulled his softening cock free from the firm, wet grip of Potter’s arse. He massaged Potter’s sides, the lovely globes of his arse, and then pushed and shifted the man so they could both lie down. Severus spooned himself against Potter’s back, but Potter turned around, with a grin, to face Severus. Their sticky stomachs, pricks, pressed together and Severus was a bit concerned that they’d become permanently adhered to each other, but he also did not care so much.

Potter nuzzled their noses and rested his forehead against Severus’. “Disproven by practice.”

Severus huffed a laugh, too loose, too sated, to stop it.

Potter kissed him, a simple, chaste kiss. “I knew this would be good.” Potter smiled against his lips. “And you called me Harry so many times.”

“It is your name.”

“I know, but it sounds particularly sinful in your voice.”

Severus hummed. “I should reserve it then, for special occasions.”

“Then, I will aim to have something special to celebrate quite regularly.”

Severus closed his eyes. “I’ve no doubt you will.”

**********

He corked the final vial of skele-gro for Hogwarts’ latest order. The Quidditch season was still young and Poppy went through the brew like a niffler with the gold in a Gringott’s vault.

Severus sent the empty cauldron to the sink in the corner, moved the completed batch to the storage shelf, and wiped down his work space. Tomorrow, he’d put together a batch of powdered acne treatment. It kept longer in that form and Poppy could mix it as needed. Then, he’d bundle it with the other potions and prepare the lot for delivery.

He climbed the stairs to the ground floor of Spinner’s End. He grabbed the bottle of wine from the front table where he’d left it and strode over to the Floo. A pinch of powder and a whoosh of green and he was stepping out into the sitting room of Grimmauld Place.

Feet pounded across the floorboards over his head. They clattered down the stairs as Severus rounded the corner into the hallway. He met them at the foot of the stairs where James leapt at him from the fourth step. Severus caught him with a grunt. Albus ambled his way down, one step at a time, with a smile on his face, chanting, “Hi, Sev-rus, hi, Sev-rus”.

“Can we have chicken nuggets for dinner?” James asked.

Severus sighed. “I suppose.”

“We can make mash potatoes with them.”

“Mashed.” Severus nodded at Potter’s new nanny, Lyra, as she followed Albus down with Lily on her hip. “And, perhaps, some broccoli.”

James wrinkled his nose but conceded with an, “I guess.”

Severus set James down and took Lily from Lyra. They all wished the nanny farewell for the day before James grabbed Severus’ hand and pulled him towards the kitchen. Severus supervised and assisted James in the preparation of dinner. Albus pulled a chair up to the counter and watched from a safe distance. Severus had no doubt the boy was soaking in his brother’s every move and would one day soon shock them all with a perfectly prepared five-course meal.

They plated the nuggets, potatoes, and vegetables up tastefully, like a proper meal instead of the slightly-rushed homestyle buffet of questionable nutritional value it was. He was buckling Lily into her pink highchair when Potter made it home from his own workday. He kissed each child on the top of their soft heads and then pressed his lips to Severus’ stubbly cheek.

They sat down to dinner. Potter and James doused their potatoes in far too much gravy. Lily threw all of her broccoli at Albus and Albus ate it. Severus kept he and Potter’s glasses topped off with the wine he’d brought.

When dinner was finished, Potter bathed the children while Severus cleaned up. Severus read the caterpillar book to Albus and Lily. Potter’s voice echoed across the hallway from James’ room where he was reading _Peter Pan_. Potter took Lily from him to put her down in her cot while Severus crossed the hall to tell James goodnight and set a small ball of light floating over his head for the night.

He and Potter climbed the final flight of stairs of the day to the third floor. They crawled into bed together, exhausted and happy, and Severus called Potter ‘Harry’ several times just because he could. Because life was sometimes worth celebrating just for itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone in this story is still a delightful disaster. I will be back with the second half in a few months.


End file.
